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r,740         The  Matterhorn:    Cloud-Banner  at  Sunrise. 

See  page  58. 


OB, 


KNOWLEDGE    BY    TEAYEL. 


By  Rev.  HENRY  W.  WARREN. 


"Many  shall  run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased.'" 


Jhree  Jllustrations. 


NEW  YORK: 

NELSON     &     PHILLIPS 

CINCINNATI :  HITCHCOCK  &  WALDEN. 

1874. 


] 

q  15 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S74,  by 
NELSON    &    PHILLIPS, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  "Washington. 


CONTENTS. 


Pagb 

I.  Preliminary  Word 7 

II.  One    Hundred    and    Fifty   Feet   Under 

Water 10 

III.  A  Mile  and  a  Quarter  Above  Boston 16 

IV.  Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground 22 

V.  Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth 32 

VI.  Paris  and  France • 46 

VII.  The  Heart  of  the  Alps 53 

VIII.  The  Mediterranean  Sea  in  the  Alps 59 

IX.  A  Pre-Historic   Glacier 66 

X.  A  Climb  to  Thirteen  Thousand  Six  Hun- 
dred and  Eighty-five  Feet  Above  the 

Sea 72 

XI.  How  to  Make  a  Mountain 79 

XII.  A  German  Portfolio 86 

XIII.  Strasburg  Cathedral 102 

XIV.  Under  a  Salt  Mountain 109 

XV.  Over  the  Splugen 117 

XVI.  Adlesberg  Cavern.  . .   127 

XVII.  Alp  Life 132 

XVIII.  Venerable  Venice 140 

XIX.  Milan  Cathedral 146 

XX.  Hung  Yesterday — Crowned  To-day 152 


6  Contents. 

Page 
XXI.  Amusements  of  Royalty 161 

XXII.  Education  by  Travel 166 

XXIII.  The  Churches  of  Rome 174 

XXIV.  Pontifical  Nepotism 184 

XXV.  Underground  Rome 191 

XXVI.  Expression  by  Art A. . .  202 

XXVII.  Putting  a  Volcano  Under  Foot 215 

XXVIII.  Possibilities  and  Actualities  of  Athens.  223 

XXIX.  Egypt 281 

XXX.  First  Impressions  of  Palestine 238 

XXXI.  Familiar  Strangeness 246 

XXXII.  A  Sham  Pentecost 251 

XXXIII.  Gropings  Under  Jerusalem 260 

XXXIV.  How  We  Get  About  the  Holy  Land.  . .  266 
XXXV.  Pilgrims 273 

XXXVI.  Human  Nature 281 

XXXVII.  Our  Last  Ride  in  Syria 291 

+~* 


$Uu%txntxan$. 


The  Matterhorn:  Cloud  Banner  at  Sunrise.....      2 

Interior  of  a  Salt  Mine  :  The  Slide in 

The  Old  Pilgrim 279 


I. 

PRELIMINARY  WORD. 

TT  HAVE  a  small  collection  of  dried  flowers 
ill-  plucked  from  here  and  there :  a  primrose 
from  a  river's  brim,  a  daisy  from  an  English 
meadow,  heather  that  made  the  Scottish  highlands 
blush,  forget-me-nots  that  cried  out  to  me  from 
the  edge  of  the  snow  on  the  Alps,  "  Take  me  to  your 
warm  hands  and  heart,"  a  blood-root  from  the  old 
Coliseum,  a  rose  from  the  plain  of  Sharon,  a  lily 
of  the  valley,  a  star  of  Bethlehem,  a  passion-flow- 
er from  Gethsemane.  But  I  have  by  no  means 
a  perfect  herbarium  of  the  flora  of  all  these 
lands. 

I  have  leaves  from  the  graves  of  Mrs.  Browning, 
Shelley,  Keats,  Wesley,  Scott,  etc.  ;  living  ivy  from 
the  place  of  Shakspeare's  birth,  fir  from  the  giants 
of  California,  cedar  from  Lebanon,  thorns  from 
Jericho,  terebinth  from  Hebron,  olive  from  Olivet. 
But  I  have  by  no  means  a  perfect  museum  of  all 
the  trees  of  the  wood. 

I  have  sand  from  the  Lybian  deserts,  stones  that 


8  Sights  and  Insights. 

seem  to  tremble  yet  with  the  thunder  of  the  cataracts 
they  came  from,  others  that  almost  burn  my  fingers 
now  as  I  remember  when  I  first  wrenched  them 
off  the  burning  lava,  granite  from  the  primal 
Alps,  crystals  from  Adelsberg  and  Mars'  Hill ; 
marbles  from  Pentelicus,  Carrara,  the  Acropolis, 
and  buried  Pompeii ;  stones,  with  imbedded  shells, 
from  the  Great  Pyramid ;  stones  that  yet  taste  of 
the  Dead  Sea,  from  whose  depths  I  took  them ; 
stones  that  shot  down  with  meteor  light  and  swift- 
ness from  the  sky.  But  I  have  by  no  means  a 
perfect  cabinet  of  the  mineralogy  of  all  these 
countries  of  earth  and  beyond. 

And  I  have  some  pictures,  not  panoramas,  of 
billow  and  sky,  mountain  and  valley;  thoughts, 
written  as  opportunity  offered,  of  many  places; 
memories  of  golden  mornings,,  Elysian  days,  and 
perfect  eves ;  visions  of  the  time  when  God  took 
up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing,  and  the  hills 
skipped  after  him  like  lambs,  and  the  mountains 
like  rams ;  inspirations  that  come  from  places 
where  men  counted  the  truth  dearer  than  life,  and 
places  where  Jesus  counted  all  worlds  less  than 
his  word,  and  human  souls  dearer  than  life.  But 
I  have  by  no  means  written  down  all  the  connect- 
ing links  of  time  and  place.  I  have  attempted  no 
complete  geography  or  universal  history. 


Preliminary   Word.  g 

I  cannot  show  you  my  flowers  that  give  me 
"  thoughts  too  deep  for  tears,"  nor  my  "  fir-tree, 
pine-tree,  and  box  together  that  beautify  the  place 
of  my  sanctuary,"  nor  my  precious  stones  that 
have  treasured  and  emit  more  light  than  diamonds  ; 
but  I  can  give  you  some  of  my  thoughts,  pictures, 
memories,  and  visions.  And  I  will.  Here  they  are. 
If  they  give  you  a  tithe  of  the  joy  they  have  given  me, 
your  sum  of  happiness  will  be  sensibly  increased. 

The  first  thought  of  putting  these  wandering 
waifs  into  a  book  was  suggested  by  my  friend 
Bradford  K.  Peirce,  D.D.,  of  Boston.  And  I  put 
his  name  here,  on  what  shall  be  pillar  or  pillory  to 
him,  according  as  the  event  shall  justify  or  con- 
demn his  suggestion. 

I  accepted  his  suggestion,  because  I  hoped  to 
offer  to  the  public  reading  something  better  than 
the  flood  of  fiction,  that  weakens  attention,  makes 
memory  a  sieve,  sets  up  false  standards  of  life, 
and  raises  a  fearful  head  of  emotional  steam,  with 
no  other  result  than  to  strain  the  boiler. 

H.  W.  W. 


II. 


ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY  FEET  UNDER 
WATER. 


^  N  American  gentleman  once  earnestly  sought 


an  introduction  to  Lord  Byron.  The  dis- 
tinguished poet,  anxious  to  ascertain 
whether  the  applicant  was  worthy  of  the  honor, 
asked  if  he  had  ever  been  to  Niagara.  He  was 
informed  that  he  had  not.  Then  said  he,  "  I  wont 
see  him.  A  man  who  travels  into  foreign  lands 
without  having  seen  the  grandest  spectacle  in  the 
universe  in  his  own  country  is  no  man  for  me  to 
know." 

That  we  may  meet  with  no  such  rebuffs  in  our 
later  wanderings,  we  will  first  see  "  the  grandest 
spectacle  in  the  universe,"  by  going  behind  the 
sheet  of  descending  water  at  Niagara. 

The  preparation  for  this  descent  consists  in 
doffing  your  accustomed  apparel  and  donning 
what  is  warranted  to  wash,  and  colors  warranted 
not  to  run — a  very  necessary  color  for  the  uniform 
of  an  army — namely,  a  flannel  shirt,  with  a  hood, 
drawers,  and  felt  moccasins.  Then  you  wind 
down  narrow  stairs,  till  your  ideas,  and  possibly 


One  Hundred  Fifty  Feet  Under  Water.     1 1 

temper,  are  inextricably  snarled.  You  walk  along 
a  couple  of  hundred  feet  under  crags  that  project 
far  over  your  head,  bristling  with  innumerable 
loose  splinters,  and  you  come  to  the  Cave  of  the 
Winds. 

This  Cave  of  the  Winds  is  behind  the  volume 
of  water  that  plunges  down  between  Luna  and 
Goat  Islands,  on  the  American  side.  A  damp 
merman  emerges  from  a  hut  in  the  mist  to  take 
charge  of  us.  His  looks  are  indicative  of  his  ex- 
perience, and  prophetic  of  ours.  Darwin  would 
find  in  him  a  proof  of  his  theory  of  "  natural  selec- 
tion," for  he  has  selected  every  natural  feature 
that  will  shed  water.  The  only  parting  in  his 
hair  is  a  point  on  the  summit.  Thence  it  goes 
down  every-where.  His  eyebrows  are  projecting 
eaves.  His  nose  almost  induces  our  own  to 
trickle.  His  mustache  could  not  be  waxed  into 
an  imperial ;  it  thatches  his  mouth.  Shoulders 
slope  at  the  sides,  and  bow  forward.  Elbows 
never  take  a  right  angle,  but  arms  hang  straight 
down,  and  fingers  stand  wide  apart,  every  one 
ever  ready  to  drip,  never  ready  to  clutch.  A  rude 
wooden  staircase  goes  down  beside,  I  might  as 
well  say  in,  the  descending  torrent,  till  the  place  is 
reached  where  the  falling  water  strikes  bottom. 

We  then  take  to  the  narrow  slippery  rocks  be- 


1 2  Sights  and  Insights. 

hind  the  cataract.  Here  the  thunderings  of  many 
waters  are  indescribable.  A  man's  yell  is  no 
more  heard  than  a  child's  whisper.  We  think  of 
"  God  on  high,  mightier  than  the  noise  of  many 
waters."  With  what  terror  can  his  voice  confound 
the  guilty !  What  miserable  limits  has  sense ! 
God  can  hear  all  this,  to  us  monstrous  diapason, 
and  yet  never  miss  a  note  of  a  bird-song  on  the 
brink  above.  And  yet  we  are  dinned,  dazed,  and 
confounded  by  the  roll  of  one  note  of  his  aeon- 
long  anthem,  before  it  is  time  to  change  it  for  an- 
other. Ah,  well !  The  chief  thing  about  man  is 
his  room  to  grow. 

Besides  the  noise,  the  chief  thing  in  the  cave  is 
that  from  which  it  takes  its  name — wind.  It  blows 
in  your  face  till  you  cannot  take  breath  for  very 
excess  of  breath.  Midas,  who  wanted  gold  ;  Tar- 
peia,  who  asked  of  the  Sabines  "  what  they  wore  on 
their  left  hands,"  as  the  price  of  letting  them  into 
the  citadel,  and  got,  not  golden  bracelets,  but  an 
avalanche  of  shields  that  crushed  her,  and  every 
other  mortal,  is  ready  to  die  of  too-muchness. 
The  mists  dash  in  your  face,  and  you  turn  a  little 
to  feel  whole  streams  polishing  off  all  your  cor- 
ners, and  making  you  as  guidelike  as  possible. 

The  slippery  stone  stairs  you  stand  on  are  not 
over  six  inches  wide.     There  is  nothing  to  hold  to, 


One  Hmtdred  Fifty  Feet  Under  Water.      1 3 

and  within  an  arm's  reach  there  is  power  enough 
to  churn  you  into  elemental  atoms  in  five  seconds. 
Of  the  few  men  who  have  fallen  in  there,  no  trace 
could  ever  be  discovered,  though  the  water  falls 
somewhat  calmly  over  other  rocks  before  reaching 
the  final  level.  You  begin  to  wonder  why  you  de- 
fiantly came  into  this  den  of  death,  when  the  guide 
stops  where  a  little  less  than  whole  water  comes  on 
you,  and  mutely  points  upward.  Now  you  see  why 
you  came.  One  would  fall  on  his  knees  as  in 
God's  very  presence,  and  utter  deep  anthems  of 
praise,  too  rapt  to  remember  that  there  is  no  place 
to  kneel,  nor  opportunity  to  open  his  mouth,  if  the 
guide  did  not  hold  him.  It  seems  as  if  He  in 
whose  "  hand  are  the  deep  places  "  of  the  sea 
must  be  pouring  that  ceaseless  flood.  Limitless, 
infinite,  he  only  can  supply  its  exhaustless  abun- 
dance. It  seems  light  and  downy  as  feathers,  whiter 
than  snow.  An  afternoon  sun  was  above  it,  we 
below,  the  floods  between.  What  an  emblem  of 
the  soul's  whiteness  !  Every  drop  transfused  and 
transfigured  with  excess  of  light.  Measureless 
waters  continued  to  be  illuminated  with  infinity  of 
light.  Earth  has  few  such  pictures,  time  few 
such  experiences,  to  declare  God's  abundances  of 
grace. 
We  pass  on,  and  emerge  on  the  opposite  side  of 


14  Sights  and  Insights. 

the  sheet  from  which  we  entered.  We  clamber 
over  and  around  rocks  as  large  as  small  houses, 
fallen  from  above  ;  pass  over  narrow  bridges  below 
the  fall,  and  again  look  up  to  its  descending  vast- 
ness.  Here  the  mists  whirl,  and  here  the  sun  lib- 
erally casts — not  rainbows,  but  rain-circles  about 
our  feet — complete  circles,  ourselves  the  center  of 
each.  Science  tells  us  that  no  two  persons  see  the 
same  gorgeous  arch  of  color  in  the  sky.  The  world 
has  been  made  rich  enough  in  such  things  to  give 
a  private  special  bow  to  each  eye.  So  these  rings 
of  color  I  saw  were  all  my  special  property.  No 
one  else  saw  the  ones  I  did.  God  gave  them  to 
me.  He  made  me  a  little  like  the  Son  whom  John 
saw  in  heaven — with  a  rainbow  entirely  round 
about  the  throne.  When  the  guide,  a  little  out  of 
the  noise,  said,  "  There  is  no  other  place  on  earth 
that  shows  the  entire  circle,"  I  thought,  Well,  there 
is  in  heaven. 

When  we  had  passed  the  foot  of  the  fall,  and 
were  ready  to  ascend  the  path  toward  the  stairs,  a 
little  Esquimaux-looking  girl,  in  bedraggled  hood, 
frock,  and  trowsers,  said,  "  Let's  go  back  the  way 
we  came."  Nothing  loth,  I  pointed  the  guide  the 
return  route.  Among  the  rocks,  rainbows,  and 
slippery  scrambles  below  and  outside  the  fall,  then 
through  the  wind,  mist,  rain,  cataracts,  and  thunder 


One  Hundred  Fifty  Feet  Under  Water.     1 5 

behind  the  falls,  and  so  climbed  to  our  accustomed 
sphere. 

If  it  takes  a  surgical  operation  to  get  a  joke 
into  or  out  of  the  head  of  a  Scotchman,  it  no 
doubt  takes  all  Niagara  to  get  some  conceptions 
into  the  heart  of  an  American.  But  the  grand 
conception  is  worth  keeping  stupendous  Niagara 
pouring  through  all  the  centuries. 

Once  out  of  the  roar,  and  lingering  round  the 
miles  of  falling  water  that  rushed  in  rapids,  fell  in 
wide  cataracts,  and  shook  the  earth  with  its  might, 
I  could  not  but  ask,  "  Whence  comes  all  this  mighty- 
torrent?  What  infinite  reservoirs  can  keep  up 
this  supply  century  after  century? "  And  the 
Bible  made  me  answer,  "  All  the  rivers  run  into 
the  sea,  yet  the  sea  is  not  full ;  unto  the  place 
from  whence  the  rivers  come,  thither  they  return, 
to  go  again."  And  science  pointed  far  off  to  the 
distant  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  and  showed  me  the 
mighty  sunbeam  lifting  the  mists  from  the  ocean, 
and  bringing  them  hundreds  of  miles  unto  the 
place  whence  these  floods  come,  and  pouring  them 
out  to  go  again.  Then  I  saw  that  Niagara  poured 
ceaselessly,  and  the  wide  Mississippi  flowed  from 
the  mountains  to  the  sea,  because  the  sunshine 
carried  through  the  upper  air  as  mighty  rivers 
from  the  sea  to  the  mountains. 


III. 

ONE  MILE  AND  A  QUARTER  ABOVE  BOSTON. 

lHAT  looks  a  little  boastful.  It  is  hard  to 
get  ahead  of  or  above  Boston.  In  the  mat- 
ter of  elevation  I  have  done  it.  In  the  mat- 
ter of  temperature,  Boston  is  above  me.  The 
thermometer  stood  this  A.  M.  (September  i)  at 
twenty-six  degrees.  The  wind  blew  sixty  miles 
an  hour.  The  snow  and  hail  were  three  inches 
deep.  You  scorched  people  may  be  glad  to  know 
where  such  temperature  may  be  found,  and  how 
to  get  there. 

Take  the  Eastern  Railroad  for  North  Conway, 
and  thence  to  the  top  of  Mount  Washington,  and 
you  find  it.  The  Glen  is  twenty-four  miles  from 
North  Conway.  From  the  Glen  to  the  top  of 
Mount  Washington  is  three  miles  in  a  straight  line. 
A  fine  carriage-road  has  been  constructed  that 
winds  about  for  eight  miles,  rising  one  foot  in 
eight.  That  road  cost  sixty  thousand  dollars, 
and  pays  three  per  cent,  on  its  capital  stock. 
It  takes  nearly  four  hours  and  quite  five  dol- 
lars to  ride  up.     To  walk  takes    the    same   time 


One  Mile  and  a  Quarter  Above  Boston.     \J 

and  much  muscle.  The  heavens  had  been 
filled  with  sailing  islands  of  pure  white  clouds  all 
day  when  I  commenced  the  ascent.  The  top  of 
the  mountain  had  not  been  clear  of  mist  and  tem- 
pest for  more  than  two  days.  Hoping  to  see  the 
mountain  in  all  the  grandeur  of  a  storm,  we  pushed 
on.  For  the  first  four  miles  the  view  was  glorious. 
The  pictures  widened  at  every  step.  The  dark 
shadows  hurried  over  a  brilliant  landscape.  Dark 
forest,  green  meadows,  sparkling  waters,  flying 
shadows,  terrible  precipices,  inaccessible  heights, 
and  a  canopy  of  driven  mist,  through  which  the 
setting  sun  threw  a  gorgeous  double  rainbow  that 
spanned  the  whole  east,  were  elements  that  com- 
bined in  grandeur.  It  was  no  puny  picture  of 
dull  colors,  set  on  a  narrow  wall  in  a  tinsel  frame, 
soon  to  be  forgotten,  but  one  of  living  colors,  like 
those  around  the  throne,  full  of  mighty  motion, 
and  one  that  will  live  in  memory  as  long  as  life. 

We  could  see  where  the  fierce  gale  struck  the 
cold  mountain  head,  had  its  moisture  condensed 
into  mist,  its  clear  air  turned  to  cloud,  and  came 
pouring  over  the  crest  and  down  the  opposite  side 
in  Niagaras  of  cloud.  Then  the  warmer  air  of 
the  lower  regions  absorbed  the  moisture,  and  the 
surging  torrent  vanished  in  mid-air.  That  was  a  real 
Staubach  of  more  than  one  thousand  feet  plunge, 


1 8  Sights  and  Insights. 

or  a  two-foot  stream.  It  poured  out  of  the  skies 
and  spread  over  a  score  of  miles.  Of  course  the 
mountain  could  be  vailed  as  long  as  winds  could 
blow.  And  we  found  that  winds  could  blow. 
There  was  more  vivid  teaching  of  the  nature  of 
clouds,  storms,  rain,  and  wind  in  one  hour,  than 
all  I  had  ever  read  from  books. 

We  rolled  up  the  curtains  and  top  of  the  wagon, 
and  began  to  scud  under  bare  poles.  We  lashed 
our  hats  to  windward  with  strong  cords,  and  shiv- 
ered in  the  wind.  It  did  seem  that  it  would  take 
us  up  like  a  little  thing  and  hurl  us  over  the  cliff. 

We  entered  into  a  cloud  at  the  sixth  mile.  Here 
the  cold  changed  the  mist  to  sleet.  It  turned  the 
driver's  whip  into  a  pole,  and  cased  the  frame 
work  for  the  wagon  covering  in  ice.  After  being 
an  hour  in  the  mist  we  came  to  the  top.  We  were 
cordially  welcomed  by  a  company  some  of  whom 
had  waited  three  days,  at  six  dollars  at  day,  for  a 
glimpse  of  the  lower  world.  "  Misery  loves  com- 
pany," they  said.  But  I  had  not  taken  that  pains 
to  climb  up  to  misery.  I  had  come  for  ecstasy. 
Before  nine  o'clock  we  were  engaged  in  a  lively 
game  of  snowball  in  the  house. 

Every  man  and  woman  took  all  their  traps  of 
coats,  shawls,  etc.,  with  them  to  bed,  for  the  cold 
was  fearful,  and  it  was  driven  at  us  by  such  a  gale 


One  Mile  and  a  Quarter  Above  Boston.     19 

as  seldom  blows  below.  The  rooms  are  seven  by 
nine.  The  roof  slopes  within  two  feet  of  the 
floor  and  of  the  opposite  wall ;  space  rather  lim- 
ited when  occupied  by  two.  Still  there  is  no 
trouble  about  ventilation.  You  cannot  raise  a 
window,  for  the  two  panes  that  admit  light  are  set 
as  a  skylight  in  the  roof.  But  that  force  of  wind 
will  go  through  pine  boards  almost  as  easily  as 
through  muslin. 

About  two  o'clock  the  whole  company  was  awak- 
ened by  masses  of  ice  falling  on  the  roof  from 
the  chimney  guys.  This  had  accumulated  to  a 
diameter  of  six  inches,  and  the  wind  shook  it 
down  on  the  roof.  Some  thought  it  thunder.  It 
seemed  as  if  every  deposit  would  come  through. 
It  did  break  one  skylight,  and  tumbled  into  the 
room.  Timid  women  screamed  ;  frightened  men 
got  up,  tramped  round  the  house,  and  it  was  near 
daylight  before  quiet  was  restored. 

The  long  dark  night  at  length  wore  wearily  away. 
'Mid  crashing  ice  and  howling  blast 
We  hailed  the  dawn  of  day. 

And  we  howled  when  it  haled  its  crashing  ice  on 
us.  No  visible  sunrise  for  us  that  day.  Our  tele- 
graph wires  were  three  inches  in  diameter  except 
where  broken  down.     We  were  utterly  cut  off  from 

the  rest  of  the  world.     Whether  there  was  any  rest 

2 


20  Sights  and  Insights. 

beside  our  four  or  five  rods  we  could  not  tell. 
Perhaps  the  delayed  comet  had  sundered,  and 
hurled  us  into  a  frozen  limbo. 

The  beautiful  frost-work  covered  all  the  sur- 
face. In  favorable  localities  it  formed  in  separate 
masses  like  a  fan,  at  the  base  an  inch  or  two 
square ;  then  spreading  in  most  delicate  crystals, 
one  mass  overlying  another  like  feathers.  It  grew 
toward  the  wind,  and  the  furious  blast,  driving 
each  particle  of  frozen  mist  at  twice  the  velocity 
of  a  locomotive  to  its  place  on  the  mass  already 
formed,  did  not  prevent  its  taking  its  place  in  the 
most  delicate  crystallizations,  and  in  such  forms  of 
beauty  as  seem  inconsistent  with  such  force.  The 
sharp,  pricking  hail  soon  drove  us  from  a  contem- 
plation of  its  beauties  to  a  contemplation  of  the 
beauties  and  utilities  of  great  roaring  fires,  where 
we  rubbed  our  chilled  fingers,  held  them  in  our 
hair,  and  felt  them  ache  after  the  old-time  manner 
of  school  boys  in  winter. 

Meanwhile  there  was  bright  sunshine,  a  moder- 
ate breeze  temperature  and  clear  air  half  a  mile 
below  us.  These  fair  promises  beguiled  a  com- 
pany of  a  gentleman,  three  ladies,  and  four  chil- 
dren, including  a  baby,  to  come  up.  The  carriage 
set  them  down  about  ten  rods  from  the  house. 
They  attempted  to  make  their  way  to  its  shelter. 


0?ie  Mile  and  a  Quarter  Above  Boston.     2 1 

But  the  women  could  scarcely  stand  in  the  fierce 
wind,  and  one  by  one  the  whole  party,  except  the 
driver,  sank  down  in  the  snow,  utterly  exhausted. 
And  but  for  help  that  whole  party  must  have  per- 
ished in  the  snow  and  tempest,  within  half  a  mile 
of  sunny  fields,  and  within  sight  of  shelter. 

Hereafter,  when  the  sun  scorches,  and  the  fe- 
vered blood  gets  as  "  high  as  ninety,"  I  shall  re- 
member with  refreshment  that  it  is  only  a  mile  up 
to  freezing.  And  a  sense  of  that  canopy  of  com- 
fort will  temper  the  temporary  and  narrow  oven  in 
which  I  bake. 

P.  S. — I  had  opportunity  to  try  it  very  soon,  for 
only  three  days  after  the  thermometer  indicated 
ninety-eight  degrees  in  my  room.  The  success  of 
the  experiment  need  not  be  detailed. 


"I 


IV. 

HALF  A  MILE  UNDER  GROUND. 

'HERE  is  a  famous  institution  not  very  far 
yy^)  from  Philadelphia  called  the  "  Switchback." 
It  is  not  pleasantly  suggestive  to  men  whose 
memories  are  yet  young ;  but  as  it  is  liberally  pla- 
carded as  being  in  the  "  Switzerland  of  America," 
we  must  certainly  visit  it  before  visiting  the  Switz- 
erland of  Europe. 

It  is  situated  near  Mauch  Chunk — which  is  not 
a  misspell  for  mock,  but  for  much.  Said  Mauch 
Chunk  is  the  outlet  of  one  of  our  greatest  coal  de- 
posits. It  lies,  or  rather  stands,  in  a  deep  valley, 
scarcely  six  hundred  feet  wide,  between  precipi- 
tous mountains.  But  into  that  narrow  place  nature 
has  crowded  a  river,  and  man  has  crowded  a  canal, 
a  road,  two  rows  of  houses,  and  two  railroads. 

The  coal-beds  lie  in  the  slopes  of  the  mountains, 
ten  or  fifteen  miles  distant.  They  first  made  a 
railroad,  and  let  the  coal-cars  slide  down  hill,  and 
empty  their  burdens  of  black  diamonds  into  the 
canal  boats  at  Mauch  Chunk.  The  cars  were  then 
drawn  back  by  mules,  which,  in  turn,  enjoyed  the 


Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground.  23 

ride  down  again.  But  a  bright  genius  conceived 
the  idea  of  letting  gravity — not  his,  but  the  earth's 
— take  the  cars  back  also.  To  accomplish  this 
the  cars  are  first  drawn  up  an  incline  of  two  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  forty-one  feet  to  the 
top  of  Mount  Pisgah,  and  nearly  one  thousand  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  river.  A  road  was  then 
constructed  along  the  mountain  side,  with  suffi- 
cient descent  to  allow  the  cars  to  run  ten  miles, 
when  they  are  drawn  up  a  new  incline  and  sent 
on  another  whirl.  We  come  to  the  foot  of  the 
plane  that  was  not  a  plain.  Two  ribbons  of  steel, 
about  five  inches  wide,  lie  between  the  rails  on 
rollers.  They  begin  to  be  drawn  up  the  mountain. 
There  emerges  out  of  the  ground  behind  us  two 
enormous  chucks  on  trucks,  which  butt  against 
our  train  of  four  cars  behind,  and  begin  to  drive 
us  up  the  slope.  It  requires  hard  holding  to 
prevent  being  piled  into  a  heap  in  the  lower  end 
of  the  car.  Up  we  go,  lifted  pulse  by  pulse,  above 
the  wild  landscape.  Some  that  have  gone  up  with 
covered  face  lift  their  hands  and  join  in  the  cry, 
"  Beautiful,  beautiful !  "  Pisgah  is  well  named.  We 
have  not  climbed  where  Moses  stood,  but  if  he 
had  any  more  enrapturing  vision  it  must  be  be- 
cause the  cloudy  vail  of  sense  was  opened,  and  he 
saw  the  world  beyond. 


24  Sights  mid  Insights. 

Then  we  commence  to  dash  along  the  mountain 

side,  drawn — just  think  of  it — by  an  engine  4,000 

miles  away.     Gravitation  is  hurling  us  along  that 

descent,  over  trestles,  around  bluffs,  through  woods, 

at  a  fearful — no,  joyful  rate.    Our  party  makes  itself 

the  figure-head  of  the  flying  train  ;  sits  on  the  front 

platform,  passes  hats  and  bonnets  to  the  keepers 

within,    and   without   cinders   or   dust,  with  hair 

flying  in  the  wind,  with  shouts  startling  the  echoes, 

wild  beasts  around,  and  tame  propriety  behind,  we 

slide  down  hill  on  a  rail,  in  the  good  old  style  of 

years  ago,  for  ten  miles. 

Bless  me,  this  is  pleasant, 
Riding  on  a  rail. 

Here  we  find  another  slope,  with  an  engine  at 
the  top  to  draw  up  sleds  and  sliders.  Here  is  a 
train  of  half  a  dozen  loaded  cars,  under  control  of 
a  single  man,  starting  by  the  power  of  gravity  for 
Mauch  Chunk.  It  seems  fearful  to  commit  such  a 
load  to  a  single  man.  Only  a  few  times  have  the 
breaks  become  disarranged.  Then  the  train  flies. 
There  is  one  place  where  the  track  is  perfectly 
straight  and  even  for  five  miles.  Almost  any  speed 
can  be  made  there.  But  when  it  comes  to  the  least 
curve  or  inequality  the  train  jumps  the  track,  and 
cars,  coal,  and  man  are  all  in  one  black  burial  blent. 
At  the  top  of  this  second  plane  is  a  burning  mine. 


Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground.  25 

It  took  fire  fifteen  years  ago,  and  they  have  never 
been  able  to  put  it  out.  It  smolders  away  year 
after  year,  sending  up  its  thin  wreaths  of  smoke, 
and  sometimes  fire  ;  and  occasionally  down  slumps 
an  acre  of  mountain  top,  whose  foundation  had 
been  eaten  away.  It  looks  singularly  like  the 
crater  of  a  volcano.     It  is  one. 

Here  we  dash  off  at  right  angles  from  our  previ- 
ous route,  compass  a  valley,  and  visit  a  coal-breaker. 
It  is  a  tall  building,  high  as  a  ten-story  house. 
Into  the  top  of  this  come  the  cars  from  the  mine, 
emptying  hundreds  of  tons  of  coal  into  a  vast  hop- 
per. Huge  pieces,  large  as  a  bushel  basket,  are 
caught  between  the  rollers,  and  crushed  into  egg, 
furnace,  and  nut  with  a  rapidity  that  is  truly  aw- 
ful, especially,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  when  a 
blundering  workman  slips  in  among  them,  and  is 
made  mince  meat  of  in  three  seconds.  From  the 
breaker  the  coal  slides  into  two  perforated  cylin- 
ders, slightly  inclined.  The  first  section  of  the 
cylinders  is  pierced  with  small  holes,  that  as  it  re- 
volves, lets  out  the  dust ;  in  the  second  section 
there  are  larger  holes  that  let  out  the  nut;  and 
thus  all  is  assorted  into  as  many  sizes  as  desired. 
Every  piece  of  coal  now  slides  down  a  shoot,  by 
a  little  army  of  boys,  who  pick  out  all  the  shale, 
and  the  coal  falls  into  its  appropriate  bin  below, 


26  Sights  mid  Insights. 

(I  have  had  coal  that  looked  as  if  the  boys  took 
frequent  play-spells.)  The  dust  is  raised  to  the  top 
of  the  building,  and  carried  off  to  the  growing 
mountain  of  coal,  pure  indeed,  but  too  small  to  use. 
The  cars  pass  the  bins.  The  gates  are  hoisted, 
the  car  loaded  in  half  a  minute.  The  whistle 
sounds  "  off  breaks,"  and  the  coal  is  on  the  way  to 
your  bin.  The  record  of  yesterday  shows  one 
hundred  and  forty-one  cars  forwarded — seven  hun- 
dred tons.     May  your  winter  be  warm  ! 

Let  us  now  go  where  it  comes  from.  Morning 
dawned  brightly — a  matter  of  indifference  to  us  for 
once,  for  the  light  of  day  would  be  of  little  aid  to 
us  among  the  black  diamonds.  Other  circum- 
stances are  equally  auspicious;  one  of  which  is 
we  have  borrowed  some  clothes,  and  are  not  afraid 
of  hurting  them.  Another  is  that  we  have  a  first- 
class  geologist  in  the  party,  who  knows  all  about 
how  this  world  has  been  put  together,  and  will  give 
us  something  more  than  the  experience  of  being 
"put  down  in  a  dark  hole  and  covered  all  over 
with  charcoal." 

Here  is  a  hole  in  the  ground.  It  runs  down  a 
steep  incline,  eight  hundred  feet.  We  jump  into  a 
car,  and  we  barely  avoid  being  piled  top  of  and  un- 
der each  other  at  the  lower  end,  by  desperate  cling- 
ing.   The  light  of  day  fades  behind  us.    The  light  of 


Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground.  27 

four  little  lamps,  constructed  to  smoke  rather  than 
illuminate,  is  a  poor  substitute.  We  feel  every  pulse 
of  the  engine  as  it  drops  us  little  by  little  into  the 
abyss.  Our  walls  are  heavy  logs  set  on  end  ;  our 
roof  ditto,  laid  horizontally  across.  We  reach  the 
bottom,  where  a  dozen  Cyclopean  gnomes,  with  a 
lamp  at  their  foreheads,  are  whirling  cars  of  coal 
hither  and  thither,  with  an  apparent  recklessness 
that  makes  one  constantly  expect  that  one  will 
burst  out  of  the  darkness  and  smite  him.  Here  is 
the  pump  that  relieves  these  miles  of  underground 
galleries  of  water.  It  must  be  lifted  seven  hun- 
dred feet.  Such  a  column  of  water  weighs  about 
three  hundred  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  But  steam 
will  lift  it.  Coal  clears  out  the  water,  draws  itself 
up,  and  carries  itself  to  market.  Properly  handled, 
coal  is  never  lifted  but  once  by  human  muscle,  in 
its  journey  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  through 
breaker,  car,  and  cart,  to  your  door.  We  say  to  a 
heap  of  it,  "  Get  up  and  move  a  thousand  miles  ; 
and,  since  you  are  going,  take  a  thousand  men, 
or  tons  of  goods,  along  with  you."  And  it  obeys. 
We  commenced  to  file  along  one  of  the  galleries. 
One  of  the  party  sat  down  rather  suddenly  on  a 
shelving  pile  of  coal,  and  filled  both  his  boots  with 
water.  The  drops  that  dripped  from  above  did 
not  affect  him  after  that      Frequently  a  donkey 


28  Sights  and  bisights. 

starts  out  of  the  darkness,  drawing  cars  of  coal. 
You  "  respect  the  burden  "  very  highly,  and  cling 
to  the  wall  as  to  an  old  and  clean  friend,  which  it 
certainly  is  not.  The  gallery  is  about  ten  feet 
wide  and  seven  high,  in  most  places  heavily  tim- 
bered. From  this  gallery  openings  are  worked  on 
either  side,  say  twenty  feet  wide,  with  a  pillar  fif- 
teen feet  wide  between  them  to  support  the  roof. 
The  gallery  runs  out  half  a  mile,  turns  round,  with 
similar  openings  on  either  side,  and  returns  to  the 
shaft.  A  strong  current  of  air  is  drawn,  by  means  of 
a  large  fan  at  the  surface,  around  the  entire  circuit. 
This  enormous  deposit  of  coal  is  two  hundred  and 
seventy-five  feet  thick.  It  is  worked  at  present 
with  two  tiers  of  galleries,  one  above  the  other. 
That  single  deposit  seems  exhaustless ;  but  when 
we  remember  that  seventeen  millions  of  tons 
have  been  mined  in  a  single  year,  the  product  of 
any  single  mine  seems  like  a  particle  of  dust  in  the 
balance. 

Even  in  these  depths  of  the  earth  life  cannot  be 
repressed.  Long  fungoid  growths,  in  the  shape  of 
pendent  cockades,  three  feet  long  and  three  inches 
in  diameter,  sometimes  hang  from  the  decaying  logs. 
They  are  white  as  drifted  snow,  translucent  to 
our  lights,  and  swing  like  things  of  life  in  the 
current  of  air. 


Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground.  29 

Just  after  the  coal  is  freshly  taken  away  from  the 
heading,  the  remaining  coal,  not  supporting  the 
pressure  of  the  mountain,  is  often  ejected  with 
great  force  from  the  freshly  exposed  wall.  All 
miners  are  deeply  scarred  in  the  face  by  these  minie- 
like  missiles.  Sometimes  a  piece  six  inches  in 
diameter  will  leap  from  its  place,  and  pulverize  it- 
self on  the  other  side.  We  required  but  little  per- 
suasion to  turn  back  from  the  extreme  front,  and 
soon  regained  our  native  air. 

It  is  well  that  none  of  us  were  called  to  pulpit  or 
platform  as  we  emerged,  or  our  auditors  might 
have  manifested  a  justifiable  prejudice  against 
color.  Black  as  we  were,  it  was  a  red-letter  day 
to  us  all. 

We  went  to  the  pile  of  refuse,  and  gathered 
some  excellent  specimens  of  pressed  ferns  and 
leaves  from  the  shale  rock  that  overlies  and  under- 
lies the  coal.  We  found  perfect  specimens  of  the 
most  delicate  ferns,  pressed  as  perfectly  between; 
layers  of  rock  as  we  could  do  it  ourselves ;  also 
wood  and  bark  of  trees  turned  into  stone.  It  is  sup- 
posed that  these  ferns,  and  other  deciduous  plants, 
formerly  grew  in  great  quantities  along  the  reedy 
shores  of  the  shallow  sea ;  and  when  a  bed  of 
vegetable  matter  had  accumulated  in  vast  thick- 
ness it  was  sunk  far  beneath  the  sea,  covered  over 


30  Sights  and  Insights. 

with  sand  by  the  rivers  and  currents,  and  this  sand 
compacted  into  a  rocky  roof  for  the  vegetable 
matter,  which  was  here  converted,  under  vast 
pressure,  into  coal,  and  was  afterward  lifted  up  in 
the  Alleghany  Mountains  to  serve  as  vast  reser- 
voirs of  fuel  for  man. 

When  we  remember  that  all  woody  fiber  is  made 
by  the  sun,  we  see  that  coal  is  only  condensed 
sunshine ;  and  that,  when  we  might  have  supposed 
it  was  being  wasted  on  a  world  where  no  man  lived, 
it  was  really  being  stored  up  and  preserved  for  our 
needs  to-day. 

We  resume  our  clothes  and  conveyance,  pass 
more  mines,  are  drawn  up  two  more  slopes,  and 
then  commence  backsliding  toward  our  starting- 
place.  This  last  is  the  best  of  all.  Over  this 
long,  straight,  smooth  home-stretch  our  driver  lets 
out  his  horses.  The  power  that  swings  worlds  is 
our  team ;  two-forty  is  nothing.  Let  gravitation 
do  her  best.  Clutch  hard  on  supports.  Hold 
your  breath  close,  you  cannot   catch  any  more  at 

this  rate : 

Rapidly  as  comets  run 
To  the  embraces  of  the  sun, 
Fleeter  than  the  starry  brands 
Flung  at  night  by  angel  hands. 

But  there  is  a  sharp  curve  ahead.  Hold  in  your 
horses,  breakman.     Ease  us  down   to  earth   ten- 


Half  a  Mile  Under  Ground.  3 1 

derly.     Let  not  such  rocket-flying  come  down  like 
a  stick. 

I  can  easily  believe  the  story  they  tell  here  of 
a  staid  old  Quaker.  He  refused  to  ride  till  he  was 
assured  the  car  should  not  go  faster  than  he  wished. 
On  the  home  stretch  he  says,  "  Friend,  is  this  as 
fast  as  thee  can  go  ?  "  "  O  no,"  says  the  conduct- 
or, and  loosens  his  break  a  little.  By  and  by 
Broadbrim  says  again,  "  Friend,  I  do  not  wish  to 
trouble  thee,  but  can't  -thee  go  a  little  faster  ?  " 
"  O  yes,  if  you  dare  risk  it."  Directly  old  con- 
servatism ventures,  "  Friend,  I  will  not  trouble 
thee  again,  but  can't  thee  go  a  little  faster  ?  "  "  Not 
without  going  to  perdition,"  replied  the  guardian 
of  the  train.  "  Never  mind,  let  her  go,"  shouted 
the  aroused  old  man.  But  the  cool  conductor, 
doubtful  of  the  reception,  obstinately  denied  the 
request. 


V. 

THREE  MILES  ABOVE  THE  EARTH. 


C*± 


HAVE  long  had  an  ambition  to  see  the  earth 
rjj^  from  some  outside  stand-point,  to  see  ourselves 
as  angels  see  us.  A  new  post  of  observation 
wonderfully  changes  our  ideas.  Alexander  thought 
himself  the  greatest  of  men,  and  the  Thracian  brig- 
and a  miserable  robber.  But  the  Thracian  rob- 
ber looked  upon  him  as  a  stupendous  destroyer, 
and  himself  as  a  benefactor  of  the  race.  So  our 
boasted  wisdom  is  stark  folly  to  higher  knowledge. 

But  how  to  reach  the  stand-point  is  the  question. 
I  never  had  the  felicity  of  Pollok's  philosopher, 
"  Leaving  the  earth,  at  will,  he  soared  to  heaven." 
I  never  believed  in  the  corporeal  actuality  of  that 
individual.  He  must  have  been  an  "  airy  noth- 
ing," and  Pollok  had  not  imagination  enough  to 
body  him  forth,  and  give  him  "  a  local  habitation 
and  a  name."  Well,  I  have  reached  a  stand-point 
I  never  occupied  before.  Do  you  ask  how  it 
looks  ?     Not  exactly  as  I  expected,  I  confess. 

I  cannot  see  the  earth  at  all.  I  do  not  know 
but  it  has  run  away,  and  left  me  to  wander  dark- 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  33 

ling  in  the  voids  of  space  forever.  I  sometimes 
feel  as  if  it  had,  and  I  am  to  be  left  wandering 
alone.  Does  one  shrink  from  such  a  possibility  ? 
That  depends  on  one's  relation  to  Him  who  filleth 
all  in  all.  A  man  once  told  me  that  he  at  one  time 
thought  himself  to  be  dying,  and  the  earth  seemed 
to  shrink  away  in  the  far  distance  to  as  minute  a 
speck  as  the  other  planets  appear  to  be.  But  he, 
taken  off  the  earth,  and  earth  itself  dwarfed  almost 
to  nothing,  was  happy,  because  he  was  with  God, 
and  at  peace  with  him.  If  the  earth  be  removed, 
if  we  ascend  up  into  heaven,  or  if  we  dwell  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,  God  is  there.  That 
last  place  is  just  where  I  am,  the  uttermost  part 
of  the  sea ;  but  while  I  write  the  word,  I  go  reel- 
ing down  to  the  depths  again.  I  have  done  little 
for  the  past  ten  days  except  to  "  reel  to  and  fro, 
and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,"  and  see  people 
trying  the  feat  of  turning  themselves  inside  out. 
Nearly  every  passenger  has  succeeded  to  an  alarm- 
ing extent.  That  picture  of  Munchausen  running 
his  arm  down  the  throat  of  a  ravening  wolf,  and 
then  jerking  him  wrong  side  out,  has  been  before 
me  constantly.  I  doubt  whether  some  of  us  know 
which  side  out  we  are  now.  O  !  (w)retched  men 
that  we  are,  we  have  had  a  terrific  succession  of 
head  winds    from  the   hour   we  left  New  York. 


34  Sights  and  Insights. 

Some  one  suggested  that  we  had  a  Jonah  aboard. 
I  submitted  that  every  body  seemed  to  have  one 
aboard,  and  was  trying  to  heave  him  up.  I  have 
discovered  that  man  is  much  more  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made  than  I  ever  imagined. 

I  was  reminded  of  the  church  that  bought  a 
barrel-organ  warranted  to  play  forty  tunes,  to  save 
the  expense  of  an  organist.  But  having  finished 
their  hymn,  on  the  first  Sunday,  no  one  had  skill 
enough  to  stop  it.  What  could  be  done  !  They 
could  not  sing  all  day.  Besides,  they  never  could 
tell  what  tune  might  be  ground  out  next.  It  had 
to  be  taken  down  the  aisle,  to  play  its  forty  tunes 
through  out-doors.  I  also  remembered  the  man 
who  got  a  very  perfect  wooden  leg,  warranted  to 
go.  But  having  got  it  started,  it  walked  and 
walked,  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do  to  stop  it,  till  it 
walked  the  other  leg  and  the  rest  of  the  man  to 
death.  The  organ  and  leg  owners  must  have  been 
considerably  surprised. 

Equally  astonished  is  a  man  to  find  his  every 
power  of  muscle,  brain,  and  mind  desert  its  cus- 
tomary place,  and  concentrate  with  fearful  power 
in  his  stomach.  A  terrible  activity  is  commenced 
there,  in  defiance  of  a  man's  own  will.  He  has  no 
control  over  his  barrel-organ.  He  is  being  worked 
to  death  by  one  of  his  own  members. 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  35 

It  is  a  fearful  revelation,  that  a  man's  own  powers 
may  rebel,  run  riot,  and  torture  him,  in  defiance  of 
his  own  will,  by  a  mere  change  of  circumstances. 
It  is  ominously  suggestive  of  the  future. 

I  wonder  that  Dante  did  not  represent  some  of 
his  worst  enemies  as  suffering  an  eternal  sea-sick- 
ness. Eternity  gets  a  new  significance  as  these 
almost  endless  days  and  morningless  nights  creep 
slowly  on.  An  exhortation  to  shun  eternal  misery 
never  had  such  a  significance  as  it  has  to-day. 

We  have  now  passed  over  two  thousand  miles 
horizontally ;  but  I  have  made  a  calculation  that 
the  compound  pitches,  rolls,  and  lurches,  that  we 
get  every  minute,  have  carried  us  nearly  twice  as 
far,  in  what  directions  I  have  not  geometry  enough 
to  say. 

I  saw  by  the  pendulum  that  the  ship  was  taking 
four  rolls  a  minute  of  thirty  degrees  each.  That 
would  put  one  side  of  a  sixteen-foot  room  ten  feet 
above  the  other,  and  pile  every  movable  thing,  in- 
cluding people,  into  the  lower  corner.  Instantly 
reverse  the  slant,  and  you  have  opportunity  to  see 
which  side  of  the  room  you  like  best,  without  mak- 
ing any  effort  to  move.  You  begin  to  see  the  wis- 
dom of  making  rooms  of  state  only  six  feet  by  four. 
You  get  very  thankful  that  they  are  no  larger. 

The  ship  has  since  rolled  to  forty  degrees.     In- 


2,6  Sights  and  Insights. 

deed,  if  one  judged  by  his  feelings,  he  would  say  it 
rolled  to  the  perpendicular.  But  feelings  are  not 
to  be  depended  on  in  such  exigencies.  Things 
get  wonderfully  deranged.  Even  the  drains  to  the 
wash-bowls  reverse  their  designed  directions,  and 
spout  fountains  six  feet  high,  converting  the  pile  of 
your  Turkish  carpets  and  your  pile  of  garments 
into  an  oozy  swamp.  The  human  system  follows 
the  bad  example,  and  adds  odors,  not  of  Eden,  to 
said  swamp.  If  a  man's  nose  is  in  any  way  extra 
sensitive,  he  had  better  send  it  as  freight,  and  not 
reclaim  it  till  he  arrives  among  the  daisies  and 
blooming  hedge-rows  of  old  England.  "  Is  this 
worth  one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  in  gold  ?  "  No 
answers  are  vouchsafed  to  civil,  much  less  to  badg- 
ering, questions. 

I  saw  a  sea  strike  our  starboard  side  about  amid- 
ships that  sounded  like  the  report  of  a  cannon, 
and  it  went  over  our  highest  works  with  cataracts 
of  water.  A  few  years  since  our  captain  was  swept 
oif  the  bridge,  which  is  twenty-five  feet  above  the 
proper  level  of  the  sea,  and  dashed  on  the  deck. 
The  same  sea  tore  a  boat  from  six  chains  of  half- 
inch  iron  and  other  fastenings,  threw  it  on  the  pros- 
trate man,  breaking  one  leg,  two  arms,  three  ribs, 
and  lots  of  other  bones. 

We  have   had  life   lines   stretched   about   our 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  37 

decks  much  of  the  time.  The  men  are  swept  here 
and  there,  often  utterly  submerged.  It  greatly- 
amused  me  to  hear  the  boatswain  yelling  to  a  man 
to  get  up  who  was  under  two  feet  of  water.  But 
possibly  a  voice  of  that  kind  could  penetrate  even 
such  obstructions. 

I  heartily  wished  that  all  who  sigh  for  "  a  life  on 
the  ocean  wave"  could  have  been  one  minute 
dashed  about  by  these  freezing  waters.  They 
would  quickly  sing,  "  There  is  no  place  like  home." 
In  the  roughest  of  the  storm  a  dozen  men  were 
kept  an  hour  on  the  foretop-yard,  hurled  from  side 
to  side,  standing  on  a  swinging  rope,  trying  to  con- 
fine a  threshing  sail  that  threatened  to  knock 
every  one  into  the  sea.  Soon  after  the  gale  split 
our  maintop-sail  with  a  sound  like  thunder.  Ropes 
snapped  like  threads.  It  took  a  full  two  hours  for 
twenty  men  on  that  reeling  yard  to  get  that  sail 
down,  and  a  new  one  in  its  place.  All  officers  say 
that  sailors  rapidly  deteriorate.  I  can  easily 
believe  it,  both  as  individuals  and  as  a  class. 
It  is  a  dog's  life.     Any  sensible  dog  would  die  in  it. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  all  is  un- 
pleasant; far  from  it.  The  very  first  night  out 
had  grandeur  enough  to  repay  many  days  of  dis- 
comfort. I  remained  on  the  upper  deck  till  nearly 
midnight,  witnessing  a  scene  so  attractive  that  no 


38  Sights  and  Insights. 

driving  wind,  drenching  rain  and  spray,  could 
drive  me  below.  The  storm- tossed  sea  was  cov- 
ered with  phosphorescence.  Every  breaking  wave 
was  like  the  uncapping  of  a  new  volcano.  The 
ocean  seemed  like  a  vast  camp,  where  ten  thousand 
watch-fires  burned.  But  the  light  being  perfectly 
white,  it  did  not  seem  like  the  camp-fires  of  earth, 
but  more  as  if  the  armies  of  heaven,  riding  on  the 
whirlwinds,  were  maneuvering  on  the  undulating 
plain.  I  looked  out  to  see  the  form  of  the  Master 
walking  on  the  crested  head  of  the  obedient 
waves.  I  could  see  him  by  faith,  but  he  delayed 
his  coming.  Every  few  minutes  our  ship  would 
plunge  her  bows  in  the  waves,  and  send  rivers 
the  whole  length  of  the  upper  deck,  pouring  tor- 
rents on  the  lower  decks  on  either  side,  as  the  ves- 
sel rolled.  After  it  was  too  dark  to  see  the  water, 
a  river  of  phosphorescent  light  would  pour  along, 
backward,  forward,  and  from  side  to  side,  as  we 
pitched  and  rolled.  This  light  was  not  diffused, 
but  in  little  patches,  from  very  small  specks  to  the 
size  of  a  silver  half-dime.  They  looked  like  a 
river  of  pearls.  What  wealth  has  God !  A  little 
fog  and  sunlight  gives  the  glory  of  the  sunset ;  even- 
ing mist,  the  rainbow ;  concentrated  smoke,  the 
diamond.  A  river  of  light  flowed  along  our  wake. 
It  required  but  little  imagination,  in  the  absence 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  39 

of  earth  and  sky,  to  people  the  whole  field  with 
myriads  of  active  agents. 

A  few  mornings  afterward  the  Master  came  to 
me,  along  the  undulating  floor  of  liquid,  blazing 
gold,  that  the  rising  sun  had  mingled  with  fire  for 
his  coming.  Sweetly  said  he,  "  Peace."  So  Christ 
rides  all  storms  of  elements,  all  of  civil  disorder, 
all  of  personal  affliction. 

Two  births  have  occurred  since  we  left  New 
York.  Children  of  the  sea  are  they.  This  morn- 
ing there  was  a  birth  of  a  different  kind.  One  was 
born  from  us  into  the  life  to  come.  A  soul  went 
out  to  seek  its  Maker  from  this  strange  place. 
How  good  it  is  that  God  compasseth  our  path 
and  our  lying  down,  and  is  acquainted  with  all  our 
ways.     How  easy,  else,  would  it  be  for  us  to  be  lost. 

What  a  wonder  is  a  steamship.  This  one  is 
four  hundred  and  forty  two  feet  long.  "End  it  up 
beside  Bunker  Hill  monument,  and  that  ornament 
and  pride  of  Boston's  nearest  suburb  would 
appear  but  half  grown.  In  its  little  compass 
it  burns  seventy  tons  of  coal  in  a  day,  giving 
a  power  equal  to  three  thousand  horses.  And 
it  needs  it  all.  For  against  the  fury  of  the  hurri- 
cane, when  a  man  can  hardly  keep  from  being 
blown  off  the  deck,  it  must  push  its  mighty  bulk, 
its  vast  height  of  spars,  its  bewildering   amount 


40  Sights  and  Insights. 

of  cordage,  among  which  the  wind  fairly  howls; 
it  must  drive  its  way  through  waves  that  smite  it  on 
the  forehead  with  a  staggering  force ;  and  it  must 
struggle  up,  when  the  ocean  sends  its  successive 
lines  of  soldiers  to  the  charge,  and  they  leap  upon 
the  deck,  and  seem  to  have  the  mastery.  All  the 
while  it  maintains  a  rate  of  speed,  day  and  night, 
that  few  horses  could  maintain,  even  for  a  few 
hours,  under  the  most  favoring  circumstances. 
That  power  shut  in  a  small  cylinder  is  mightier 
than  wind  and  wave,  because  of  a  higher  and  less 
material  nature.  When  we  fight  our  battles,  let 
us  seize  on  the  highest,  most  spiritual  powers,  and 
we  shall  be  victors. 

And  when  the  storm  is  over,  and  there  remains 
no  trace  of  the  elemental  war,  except  the  long, 
undimpled  swell,  nothing  can  exceed  the  ves- 
sel's beauty  of  movement  as  she  gently  careens 
and  bows  over  the  undulating  plain  that  breaks 
into  quiet  laughter  at  her  touch.  There  is  no 
graceful  animal  that  can  be  compared  to  its 
graceful  movements.  The  vessel  seems  to  be  in- 
telligent. Her  steady  pulse  that  never  slackened 
in  the  storm  is  not  quickened  in  the  calm.  There 
is  no  exultation  over  its  recent  victory.  Its  thrill 
of  life  has  no  touch  of  pride  ;  it  is  a"  display  of  inner 
power. 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  4 1 

Our  propeller  has  made  its  fifty  revolutions  to 
the  minute  all  the  way  across  the  ocean,  a  million 
in  all.  That  is  a  power  equal  to  driving  the  ves- 
sel three  hundred  and  sixty  miles  a  day  in  smooth 
water,  but  the  storm  has  sometimes  beaten  us  back 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  a  day  from  the  ac- 
complishment of  that  distance. 

Nearly  every  thing  is  done  by  steam.  It  hoists 
two  or  three  thousand  tons  of  freight  out  of  the 
capacious  hold,  and  replaces  it  with  as  much  more 
in  two  or  three  days.  It  pulls  on  the  ropes  in 
handling  the  sails.  It  gets  fifty  barrels  of  ashes 
out  of  the  hold  every  day,  and  puts  them  ready 
for  the' ash-cart  on  the  back  street.  It  also  steers 
the  vessel.  This  is  the  latest  improvement  in 
steam  navigation.  It  used  to  take  eight  men  to 
hold  the  vessel  in  a  storm.  And  sometimes  it 
would  break  from  their  grasp,  when  Old  Neptune 
gave  a  sudden  jerk  at  the  rudder.  Here  one  man 
steers  with  one  hand  in  calm  or  storm.  Yet  he 
exerts  a  force  of  twelve  tons  on  the  rudder,  and 
can  deflect  it  thirty  degrees,  while  eight  men  could 
not  deflect  it  more  than  ten  degrees  when  under 
full  headway. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  things  about  a  sea- 
voyage  is  the  source  of  its  guidance.  If  you  steer 
by  the  direction  of  its  waves,  you  find  they  vary. 


42  Sights  and  Insights. 

If  you  run  toward  or  away  from  the  wind,  you 
may  steer  to  all  points  of  the  compass  in  a  day. 
If  you  follow  other  vessels,  they  may  lead  you 
from  your  port,  and  very  possibly  you  cannot  keep 
in  sight  of  them  for  twenty-four  hours  together. 

Is  there  any  guide  whose  light  no  darkness  can 
extinguish,  whose  stability  no  reeling,  plunging, 
staggering  motion  can  shake,  and  whose  reliability 
is  not  destroyed  by  every  conceivable  element  of 
uncertainty  ?  Can  any  thing  stand  firm  in  this 
tossing,  and  maintain  its  direction  among  such 
terrific  forces  that  shift  every  instant?  Surely, 
nothing  that  is  affected  by  wind  or  wave. 

But  there  are  etherial  forces  that  are  steady  in 
storm,  quiet  in  every  tumult.  These  forces  travel 
round  the  earth.  The  fiercest  winds  do  not  blow 
aside  their  tenuous  lines :  the  leaping  waves  can- 
not break  their  fragility,  mountains  interposed 
never  turn  them  from  their  path.  Can  we  lift  up 
our  hand  and  feel  which  way  they  uninterruptedly 
travel  ?  Can  we  fling  out  our  streamers  from  the 
mast-head  and  note  their  direction  ?  No.  Hand 
and  streamer  are  not  sensitive  to  influences  so 
etherial.  But  the  fine  hammered  steel  of  the 
needle  will  feel  their  power  and  own  their  sway. 
So  when  the  fog  is  thick,  and  the  darkness  impen- 
etrable, a  single  little  lamp  lights  up  the  compass. 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  43 

It  is  midnight.  All  lights  on  board  are  extin- 
guished. The  cavernous  hold  is  blackness.  The 
starless  vault  above  is  so  black  that  no  sky  even 
can  be  seen.  But  looking  at  the  little  light  in  the 
binnacle  that  scarcely  illuminates  a  cubic  foot  of 
space,  the  helmsman  holds  his  vessel  to  the  point. 
No  matter  if  winds  veer,  sails  flap,  waves  strike  port 
or  starboard,  she  must  go  straight  on,  guided  through 
instability  by  the   only  stable  thing  they  know. 

So,  amid  the  tossings  of  time,  there  are  stable 
currents  of  celestial  power.  Heaved  about  by 
forces  we  cannot  master,  buffeted  in  the  face  by 
adversity,  hemmed  in  by  darkness  we  cannot  pen- 
etrate, and  yet  irresistibly  driven  we  know  not 
where,  there  are  currents  of  celestial  steadiness. 
The  eye  sees  nought  of  their  direction ;  the 
hand  cannot  feel  their  passage ;  the  ear  can  hear 
no  music  of  their  making ;  but,  steadier  than  the 
sweep  of  the  stars,  they  are  coursing  in  every  place 
of  human  need.  And  when  man  once  gets  the 
appropriate  part  of  his  nature  touched  by  the 
magnetism  of  Divine  love,  and  thereafter  keeps  it 
ready  to  respond  to  the  influences  of  the  Spirit, 
he  is  never  at  a  loss  for  guidance.  No  matter  if 
the  sun  be  obscured,  if  the  stars  be  hid,  if  winds 
be  adverse,  if  waves  threaten  to  engulf,  the  celes- 
tial guidance  is  secure. 


44  Sights  and  Insights. 

But  our  mode  of  interpreting  magnetic  currents 
is  not  perfect.  The  organism  by  which  we  render 
sensible  this  ethereal  influence,  that  wind  never 
varies,  and  tempest  never  blows  aside,  is  liable  to 
derangement.  We  render  unreliable  the  true  by 
our  handling.  The  heavenly  treasure  contracts 
some  taint  from  the  clay.  The  compass  gets  vari- 
ous and  variable  variations.  The  iron  needed  for 
the  ship  and  its  machinery  brings  fluctuations. 
If  a  ship  was  built  standing  on  the  stocks  north 
and  south,  its  needles  behave  very  differently  from 
one  built  east  and  west.  The  electrical  condition 
is  frequently  very  different  after  the  machinery 
has  been  put  in  from  what  it  was  before  ;  also  after 
a  storm,  from  its  previous  condition.  So  we  must 
reach  clear  beyond  the  earth.  Its  ethereal  cur- 
rents are  not  high  enough.  Its  most  spiritual  is 
too  earthy.  We  go  to  the  stars.  Every  night 
that  polar  star,  "  whose  fixed,  unvarying  constancy 
hath  no  fellow  in  the  firmament,"  mounts  higher 
in  the  sky,  telling  us  how  far  we  have  crept  round 
this  floating  ball  toward  the  north.  Every  night 
Orion  and  the  Pleiades  swing  lower  in  the  south. 
Already  the  pole  star  is  fifty-one  degrees  above 
the  horizon  :  eleven  degrees  higher  than  it  was  at 
home. 

Every  night  stars  rise  or  reach  their  culmination 


Three  Miles  Above  the  Earth.  45 

earlier  to  tell  us  how  far  we  have  crept  to  the  east. 
Already  our  sunrise  is  three  hours  earlier  than 
yours,  if  you  know  when  that  is.  I  have  always 
been  glad  that  God  put  us  on  the  outside  of  this 
earth,  instead  of  within.  He  thus  invites  us  to 
look  up  to  explore  the  infinite,  and  take  our  guid- 
ance from  his  high,  eternal  certainties.  Thus  we 
are  to  keep  this  world  under  our  feet,  and  stand 
a  whole  globe  higher  for  our  footing. 

A  captain  once  confided  his  helm  to  a  son  of 
Erin,  told  him  to  steer  straight  for  a  certain  star, 
and  turned  in.  He  was  just  being  lulled  to  sleep 
in  the  soothing  arms  of  Ocean  when  Pat  yelled  at 
him,  "  Say,  Misther,  come  and  give  me  another 
star,  I  have  got  clear  by  that  one."  Many  a  poor 
Pat  has  got  "  dear  by  "  God's  stars.  They  were 
hung  as  signal  lights,  to  guide  men  straight  to  the 
final  and  eternal  glory.  But  we  turn  aside  and  go 
round  the  darkness  in  interlacing  curves  that  only 
wind  in  a  dizzy  limbo. 

Our  party  is  steering  by  the  star  of  Bethlehem 
just  now,  and  hope  to  come  where  the  young  Child 
lay.  But  we  also  remember  that  that  star  is  herald 
of  the  dawn,  so  we  know  that  we  are  steering  to- 
ward eternal  sunrise. 


VI. 

PARIS  AND   FRANCE. 

f  HARDLY  know  what  to  send  you,  for  my 
quiver  is  as  full  as  a  blessed  man's  house  is  of 
children.  Of  one  thing  I  begin  to  feel  sure. 
When  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  shall  become  the 
kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  the  last  point  conquered 
from  the  present  prince  of  this  world  will  be  the 
British  Channel.  Every  time  I  have  touched  it 
the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air  has  come 
down  in  great  wrath.  I  hope  it  is  because 
he  knows  his  time  is  short.  If  any  one  doubts 
future  punishment,  let  him  try  present  punish- 
ment, and  he  will  cry  for  mercy  here  and  here- 
after. 

"  When  good  Americans  die  they  go  to  Paris," 
says  the  proverd  of  the  first  society.  No  doubt  it 
would  satisfy  the  ambition  of  many  people,  who 
call  themselves  good,  to  go  there  after  death,  pro- 
vided they  could  have  money  enough.  Whoever 
can  be  satisfied  with  the  gratification  of  the  senses 
would  do  well  to  go  to  Paris.     The  tendency  of 


Paris  and  France.  47 

the  French  mind,  that  is  to  say,  the  Parisian,  is  to 
delicacy,  and  the  perfection  of  the  minute.  There 
are  no  such  astronomical  instrument  and  jewelry 
makers  in  the  world.  This  trait  touches  with  its 
wand  of  beauty  all  that  pertains  to  Parisian  life. 
You  see  it  in  the  white  cap  of  the  woman  that 
sweeps  the  streets,  in  the  jeweled  crowns  of  royalty, 
and  all  that  lies  between. 

But  Paris  had  no  vast  conceptions  till  Napoleon 
arose.  All  previous  attempts  at  magnificence  were 
only  aggregations  and  multiplications  of  small 
things.  He  lacked,  in  a  great  degree,  all  the  ele- 
ments of  the  French  mind.  Yet  he  thoroughly 
comprehended  that  mind.  Away  on  a  distant  cam- 
paign, he  received  intelligence  that  the  Parisians, 
discontented  at  his  prodigal  waste  of  life,  meditated 
revolution  against  him.  "  Gild  the  dome  of  the 
Hotel  des  Invalides,"  wrote  he  in  reply,  knowing 
that  a  new  nine  days'  wonder  would  prove  a  com- 
plete preventive  of  revolution.  He  gave  his  vast 
conceptions  to  the  Parisians,  and  they  added  that 
touch  of  perfectness  in  all  the  details  that  is  a  sign 
of  genius.  The  late  Emperor  went  forward  in  the 
path  his  uncle  entered,  giving  the  Paris  of  to-day 
a  magnificence  of  design,  and  a  beautiful  com- 
pleteness in  detail,  that  has  no  rival  on  the 
earth. 


48  Sights  and  Insights. 

They  tell  you  in  nearly  every  place  in  Europe 
that  Napoleon  carried  their  choicest  treasures  of 
art  to  Paris.  As  you  see  the  beauty  and  magnifi- 
cence of  the  city  you  feel  half  inclined  to  forgive 
him.  And  as  you  remember  that  most  of  those 
treasures  have  been  returned  to  their  previous 
owners,  you  can  cherish  no  hardness  toward  him 
on  that  account.  But  another  immense  robbery 
has  been  committed,  and  no  restitution  made. 
All  France  has  been  plundered  to  make  this  one 
city  great. 

"  Paris  is  France,"  says  the  proud  inhabitant  of 
the  city  as  he  thinks  of  its  influence.  "  Yes,  Paris 
is  France,"  says  the  observer  of  both  as  he  sees 
that  the  country  has  been  drained  that  the  city 
may  be  full.  There  is  nothing  but  Paris  and  its 
tributaries  in  the  nation.  It  is  surprising  to  see 
how  poor  and  mean  the  country  of  a  great  nation 
can  become  when  its  rulers  determine  to  make  its 
cities  great.  In  proportion  as  a  government  is 
despotic,  the  rural  districts  show  poverty  of  build- 
ings, implements,  and  stock,  sparseness  and  stu- 
pidity of  population.  I  wondered,  during  a  whole 
day's  journey  in  Austria,  how  a  people  so  indus- 
trious and  frugal  could  be  kept  so  poor.  The 
houses  were  hovels,  and  an  ordinarily  well  dressed 
person  a  great  rarity.     There  was  a  beggarly  des- 


Paris  and  France.  49 

titution  of  farm  stock.  Why  was  it  ?  It  burst 
upon  me  like  a  revelation  as  I  rode  through  the 
streets  of  Vienna  at  night.  There  was  prodigally- 
lavished  that  which  would  have  made  the  country- 
abound  in  comforts. 

The  same  was  evident  in  France.  Think  of 
going  five  hundred  miles  through  an  old  country- 
like  France  and  find  no  city  of  any  considerable 
pretension,  except  the  capital.  Even  villages  were 
very  scarce,  Agricultural  implements  were  very 
primitive.  And  many  evident  tokens  showed  that 
all  the  thrift  and  genius  had  been  drafted  else- 
where. This  is  not  so  in  Switzerland  or  Great 
Britain.  You  can  tell  where  you  pass  boundary 
lines  between  despotic  and  comparatively  free 
countries  by  the  appearance  of  the  country 
itself. 

A  great  English  oculist  was  asked  by  old  Dr. 
Warren,  of  Boston,  how  he  attained  such  wonderful 
skill  in  operating.  "  O,"  said  he,  "  I  spoiled  a 
whole  hat  full  of  eyes  in  acquiring  it."  And  if  you 
ask  where  Paris  gets  its  brightness,  beauty,  and 
exuberant  life,  the  answer  must  be,  it  spoiled  a  na- 
tion to  hoard  it.  There  is  no  apparent  poverty  in 
Paris.  I  did  not  see  a  ragged  or  dirty  person 
(except  those  carrying  coal)  in  the  city,  and  I  went 
into  every  part.     Not  once  was  a  hand  stretched 


50  Sights  and  Insights. 

out  for  charity — a  most  noticeable  circumstance 
to  one  familiar  with  Italy.  The  people  all 
seem  filled  with  exuberant  life.  English  people, 
at  the  close  of  a  day's  pleasure-excursion,  are 
the  most  woe-begone  looking  individuals  im- 
aginable. Their  pleasures  are  intensely  fatigu- 
ing. Like  the  man  who  would  have  peace  if  he 
had  to  fight  for  it,  they  make  their  pleasures  pains, 
and  work  to  weariness,  trying  to  get  rested.  Not 
so  the  Frenchman.  Pleasure  is  his  daily  business. 
He  goes  out  like  a  lark,  he  comes  home  as  cheer- 
ful as  a  nightingale.  No  doubt  there  is  sadness 
and  despair  enough  in  the  gay  capital,  but  it  is  not 
apparent.  It  hides  itself  in  garrets,  and,  as  the 
morning  revelations  of  the  Morgue  tell  us,  often  in 
the  river  Seine. 

One  thing  that  helps  to  account  for  the  absence 
of  the  lines  of  care  from  their  faces  is  their  seem- 
ing indifference  to  what  Mrs.  Grundy  will  say. 
They  are  not  fearful  that  some  one  will  know  what 
they  do.  The  women  bring  their  sewing  to  the 
sidewalk.  You  can  look  on  their  tables  as  you 
pass  their  windows  and  doors.  A  man  will  call 
half  a  dozen  acquaintances  or  strangers  about  him 
as  he  discusses  his  hotel  bill  with  the  landlord. 
They  have  nothing  to  conceal.  Another  assistance 
is  their  exemption  from  care.     The  Government 


Paris  and  France.  5 1 

has  charge  of  them.  It  carries  on  vast  public 
works  that  the  laborer  may  have  wages,  and  he 
never  builds  barricades  when  he  can  get  better 
pay  for  building  houses.  It  makes  Paris  such  an 
earthly  paradise,  that  all  the  pleasure-seekers  in 
the  world  must  come  to  taste  its  sweets  and  buy 
its  wares. 

But  what  is  the  result  of  such  a  life  ?  What  is 
the  fruitage  of  sowing  to  the  flesh?  What  can  the 
diligent  cultivation  of  beauty  and  exquisite  taste 
do  for  a  people  ?  The  results  of  their  recent  war 
with  Germany  give  answer.  When  their  bravery 
of  brass  and  flourish  of  feathers  were  stripped  off 
them  they  were  found  livid  with  fear.  They  were 
men  without  hearts.  A  nation  of  curs  could  not 
have  taken  a  whipping  more  submissively.  The 
ruins  in  Paris  give  answer.  And  not  only  the  ruins 
accomplished,  covering  whole  squares  in  all  quar- 
ters of  the  city,  but  the  far  greater  ruins  designed, 
prepared  for,  and  only  frustrated  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, give  tenfold  answer.  Education  for  mere 
pleasure  gives  men  a  tiger  thirst  for  blood.  It 
glutted  itself  in  Old  Rome.  And  you  may  stand 
here  on  a  single  spot  where  the  blood  of  twenty- 
three  thousand  persons  has  been  shed.  Not  in 
the  frenzy  of  strife,  but  just  for  the  relish  of  the 
thing,  as  the  most   delectable  show  of  the  period, 


52  Sights  and  Insights. 

made    piquant    with    jokes    and    theatrical    by- 
design. 

A  man  is  indictable  for  high  treason  to  human 
interests  who  lives  at  peace  with  such  a  system  of 
education. 


VII. 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  ALPS. 

>P  TOW  well  we  remember  our  first  sight  of 
^pL  Church's  "  Heart  of  the  Andes."  It  is  a 
picture  gorgeous  with  bright  birds  and 
leaves.  We  are  charmed  with  its  grace  of  flowing 
vines.  We  hear,  or  fancy  we  hear,  the  music  of 
its  gentle  water.  The  cross  by  the  roadside  seems 
in  a  fitting  place  with  its  suggestions  of  peace.  A 
kind  of  Indian-summer  atmosphere  sleeps  over 
the  tropical  landscape.  And  the  mountains  look 
so  far  away,  I  am  sure  no  one  ever  felt  like  gird- 
ing up  his  languid  powers  to  attempt  an  ascent. 

Very  different  is  the  heart  of  the  Alps.  The 
waters  here  roar,  dash,  leap  down  fearful  preci- 
pices, rave  against  the  hard  rocks  and  tear  them 
to  pieces.  The  cold  ice  faces  you  on  every 
side.  Its  deep-green  color  proclaims  its  fearful 
amount.  The  worn  and  crushed  rocks  tell  of 
the  power  with  which  it  moves.  The  trees  are 
only  those  hardy  kinds  that  can  keep  their  green 
garments  on  all  the  cold  winter.  And  even  these, 
especially  the  fir-trees,  make  a  straight  swift  push 


54  Sights  and  Insights. 

for  the  upper  air.  Plant  it  where  you  will,  it  points 
straight  toward  the  heaven,  as  if  feeling  after  the 
light  and  warmth,  and  growing  up  into  it  regard- 
less of  the  circumstances  from  which  it  springs. 

The  mountains  are  near  you.  They  seem  like 
a  circle  of  white-haired  giants,  watching  you  all 
the  time. 

And  the  air  has  no  sleepy  hue  of  mistiness.  It 
does  not  drone  a  quiet  tune.  It  is  clear  as  the 
body  of  heaven.  It  shows  every  object  clear-cut 
and  near.  Then  it  pipes  inspiring  marches,  puts 
oxygen  in  your  blood,  and  calls  out  to  you  to 
come  up  and  see  these  sublime  mountains  face  to 
face. 

The  characteristic  of  the  Alps  is  their  extreme 
precipitousness.  Hence,  these  twenty  splintered 
peaks  can  stand  near  together,  and  have  the  val- 
ley of  Zermatt  drop  down  deep  among  them.  The 
nearest  peak  is  less  than  five  miles  from  the  vil- 
lage. Yet  it  rises  nearly  two  miles  above  it.  Be- 
sides these  mountains,  there  are  those  objects  of 
unending  interest,  the  Glaciers.  Three  of  the 
most  interesting  ones  in  the  world  come  down  into 
this  little  valley. 

There  are  peculiar  facilities  for  viewing  these 
sublime  attractions.  Nearly  every  peak  may  be 
ascended,  and    the  view    enjoyed    from   various 


The  Heart  of  the  Alps.  55 

points.  Besides  this,  a  kind  of  a  watch-tower  has 
been  lifted  up  right  in  the  midst  of  these  tower- 
ing peaks,  so  that  even  the  feeble  and  timid  may 
come  into  this  most  imposing  scenery  and  expand 
their  souls  with  its  grandeur.  It  seems  as  if  the 
top  of  a  mountain  ten  miles  in  diameter  had  sunk 
down,  leaving  a  dozen  craggy  mountains  split  per- 
pendicularly toward  Zermatt,  or  facing  the  spot 
where  the  top  went  down.  This  fallen-in  top  still 
retains  a  relative  elevation  over  the  sunken  sum- 
mit, and  stands  up  in  the  low  valley.  It  is  called 
the  Gorner  Grat. 

This  inner  peak  runs  up  from  Zermatt  toward 
the  east,  rising  five  thousand  feet  above  it,  and 
right  in  the  center  of  the  lofty  peaks  that  rise  five 
thousand  feet  higher.  A  little  more  than  half 
way  up  the  Gorner  Grat  the  Riffle-house  has 
been  built.  It  is  an  admirable  hotel,  two  thousand 
four  hundred  feet  higher  than  Mount  Washington. 
And  although  every  thing  is  carried  to  the  first  on 
mules  or  men,  and  to  the  second  by  railroad,  yet 
board  in  the  first  is  only  two  dollars  and  a  half  a 
day,  and  in  the  second  six  dollars. 

No  better  place  could  be  found  for  the  mount- 
ain-lover. If  he  would  climb,  twenty  peaks 
beckon  him.  Would  he  explore  a  glacier,  he  is 
on    its  border.     Would    he    try    crag-work,    the 


56  Sights  and  Insights. 

Rifflehorn  offers  its  hitherto  unsealed  precipices. 
Would  he  quietly  rest,  the  deep  valley,  the  high 
mountain,  and  the  ever-changing  sky,  spread  out 
their  beauties  to  charm  him. 

The  first  night  after  my  arrival  at  the  Riffle- 
house  (July  14)  we  had,  first,  thunder  and  light- 
ning, then  terrific  wind,  two  inches  of  snow,  and 
fair  weather,  all  between  ten  o'clock  and  four.  I 
went  out  while  the  sparkling  stars  yet  hung  in  the 
clear  sky.  How  sorry  I  felt  for  the  little  blue 
violets,  and  forget-me-nots,  that  the  day  before 
bloomed  so  abundantly  as  to  make  one  think  the 
sky  had  fallen.  I  scraped  away  the  snow,  and 
there  they  were,  looking  as  brave  as  if  a  snow- 
storm brought  only  a  winter  blanket,  and  was  to 
be  always  welcomed.  But  I  was  bound  for  the 
top  of  the  Gorner  Grat  to  see  the  sun  rise.  The 
time  of  the  ascent  is  one  and  a  half  hours.  So 
there  is  not  much  time  on  a  summer  morning  to 
loiter  among  snow-Covered  flowers.  I  accom- 
plished the  ascent,  and  stood  in  a  world  of  white 
to  welcome  the  king  of  day.  I  had  seen  Guido's 
"  Gorgeous  Aurora  "  in  the  Rospigliosi  Palace  at 
Rome,  and  thought  it  unequaled.  But  one  real 
aurora  surpasses  any  paint  as  much  as  rainbows 
outshine  dyestuffs.  First,  the  Matterhorn,  and  the 
peaks  north  of  it,  caught  a  faint  crimson  glow. 


The  Heart  of  the  Alps.  57 

They  were  no  longer  cold  snow  mountains.  They 
were  full  of  warm,  rosy  life,  that  responded  feel- 
ingly to  the  coming  sun.  The  mountains  to  the 
east  had  an  astonishingly  dark  shade,  considering 
they  were  covered  with  snow.  They  were  right 
between  me  and  the  glowing  heaven,  and  even 
flame  shows  black  against  the  sun.  How  easily  I 
could  see  the  world  roll  as  the  light  advanced 
down  the  mountains  at  the  west.  Below,  all  was 
in  deep  shadow.     I  might  as  well  say  deep  night. 

Then  morning  mists  started  out  like  little 
islands  and  floated  far  below  me.  They  eddied 
slowly  down  the  gorge  toward  the  Rhone,  passed 
the  avalanche  that  buried  a  whole  village,  and  laid 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  the  Oberland  Alps  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Rhone. 

I  could  not  tell  that  a  breath  of  air  stirred,  but 
I  could  see  a  little  flurry  of  the  new  fallen  snow — 
that  was  six  inches  deep  where  I  stood,  and  much 
deeper  on  the  mountain  summits — occasionally 
whisked  over  the  heads  of  the  waiting  mountains, 
as  if  brides  were  adorning  themselves  for  their 
coming  lord. 

Suddenly  the  sun  pierced  me  with  a  shaft  of 
light.  It  seemed  like  a  real  shaft,  it  came  so  sud- 
denly and  so  powerfully.  Then  the  warm  air  just 
breathed  over  the  hill  tops  from  Italy,  and  there 


58  Sights  and  Insights. 

stood  out  from  every  one  of  them  a  straight 
streamer  of  cooled  mist.  The  mountains  had  run 
up  their  colors  to  celebrate  the  new  day.  I  may 
well  say  colors,  for  the  sun  streamed  redly  through 
those  at  the  east,  transfused  those  at  the  north  and 
south  with  pure  white  light,  and  reflected  purple 
from  those  at  the  west*  I  could  but  remember 
Dr.  M'Cosh's  figure,  borrowed  from  this  scene,  of 
the  spreading  of  the  Gospel  light,  and,  standing 
rapt  and  awed  in  the  brilliance,  I  said,  "  Even  so, 
come,  Lord  Jesus,"  and  come  quickly. 
*  See  Frontispiece. 


Till. 

THE  MEDITERRANEAN  SEA  ON  THE  ALPS. 

[HE  wind  blows  northward  over  one  thou- 
sand thirsty  miles  of  Sahara  sands.  Thirsty 
and  faint  with  heat,  it  plunges  down  into  the 
Mediterranean  Sea.  It  rollicks  over  the  cool 
plains ;  it  washes  the  yellow  dust  from  its  wings 
in  the  bright  blue  waters  ;  it  plays  with  its  billows 
as  children  play  with  the  sweet  new-mown  hay, 
tossing  them  over  its  shoulders,  and  scattering 
them  far  and  wide  with  cheering  sounds  of  rip- 
pling laughter. 

But  most  of  all  it  quenches  its  fiery  thirst.  It 
sips  from  every  wave  more  daintily  than  the  bee 
from  flower,  and  rolls  itself  into  a  thousand  con- 
volutions that  every  part  of  its  substance  may  bathe 
in  the  sea  and  drink  its  fill.  But  daintily  as  it 
drinks,  it  drinks  largely.  It  drinks  and  carries 
away  the  whole  upper  part  of  the  neighboring  Red 
Sea  to  the  depth  of  eight  feet  every  year.  It  takes 
somewhat  less  from  this  sea,  it  is  true,  but  still 
enough  to  quench  the  thirst  of  every  zephyr. 

Then  it  journeys  northward  and  breathes  over 


60  Sights  and  Insights. 

Italy.  It  imparts  an  incredible  fertility  to  the 
fields  :  it  bathes  every  leaf  of  the  mulberry  and  the 
vine,  washes  every  golden  green,  or  glowing  purple 
bunch  of  grapes,  till  it  looks  bright  enough  to 
shine  in  the  night.  It  waters  every  flower  on  the 
plains  of  Lombardy.  Then,  striking  the  southern 
slopes  of  the  Alps,  it  careers  like  a  troop  of  wild 
horse  over  forest  and  rock,  till  it  has  leaped  three 
miles  in  air.  Then  it  plays  around  the  summits 
of  Monte  Rosa  and  the  Matterhorn.  But  it  is 
hot  and  thirsty  no  longer.  Indeed,  it  has  brought 
more  moisture  than  it  can  carry.  So,  dense  clouds 
burst  out  of  what  was  clear  air  in  Italy.  And 
these  clouds  are  pressed  like  a  saturated  sponge 
against  the  cold  summits.  The  particles  of  mist, 
drawn  together  by  some  hidden  law,  arrange  them- 
selves in  airy  ranks,  join  feathery  crystal  to  crystal, 
wear  necklaces  of  more  than  diamond  beauty,  and 
with  mazy  dance  and  quiet  song,  eddy  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  mountains,  and  down  the  northern 
sides.  It  is  so  light  that  a  boy's  breath  would 
scatter  a  whole  cloud  of  it,  and  so  beautiful  that 
only  the  power  that  fashions  the  flower  could  make 
it.  Thus,  the  Mediterranean  Sea  comes  into 
Switzerland.     Let  us  go  up  and  see  it. 

From   the    Matterhorn   there   runs  a  glittering 
chain  of  giant  peaks :  a  little  south  of  east,  the 


The  Mediterranean  Sea  on  the  Alps.       61 

Breithorn,  Pollux,  Castor,  the  Lyskamm;  turning 
northward,  Monte  Rosa,  Weissthor,  and  Cima  de 
Jazzi ;  westward  to  the  Stockhorn  and  the  Gorner 
Grat,  completing  the  circuit,  and  ending  near  the 
roots  of  the  Matterhorn  aforesaid.  Within  these 
peaks  you  see  an  irregular  basin  ten  miles  long 
and  five  wide,  which  is  considerably  inclined,  and 
the  edge  broken  out  toward  the  west. 

Into  this  basin,  as  I  have  said,  pours  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea,  and  also  part  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
feathery  crystals  swirl  over  these  mountain  tops, 
weave  fantastic  wreaths  on  the  steep  sides,  and,  as 
they  accumulate  in  vast  drifts,  slip  into  the  valley 
below.  The  motion,  cold,  and  wind,  change  the 
snow  feathers  into  little  pellets  somewhat  like  shot. 
These,  being  heaped  hundreds  of  feet  deep  in  the 
valley,  begin  to  move  slowly  down  the  incline 
of  the  basin  toward  the  west.  At  first  its  motion 
is  exceedingly  slow,  hardly  accomplishing  an  inch 
a  day.  But  when  it  comes  down  where  the  gorge 
is  narrower,  the  incline  steeper,  the  snow  heavier, 
because  turned  to  ice,  pushed  from  behind,  drawn 
by  gravitation  before,  lubricated  by  abundant 
water  that  the  sun  thaws  from  its  surface,  it  moves 
more  swiftly,  and  averages  a  foot  a  day. 

You  must  not  fail  to  observe  that  this  is  not  a 
regular   symmetrical    valley.      Such    a  one   does 


62  Sights  and  Insights. 

not  exist  in  nature.  Between  each  of  the  peaks 
mentioned  that  form  the  boundary  line  lie  rugged 
ravines  that  pour  their  tributary  frozen  torrents 
into  the  icy  stream  below.  No  less  than  ten 
branch  glaciers  thus  run  into  the  main  stream. 
When  these  wide  rivers  crowd  one  another  for 
room  to  move,  it  seems  as  if  the  barriers  of  the 
hills  must  give  way. 

Those  inaccessible  cliffs  keep  up  a  kind  of  con- 
stant fusilade  of  rocks,  broken  from  their  steep 
sides,  upon  the  ice-fields  below.  As  the  glacier 
moves  on,  century  by  century,  it  bears  the  burden 
thus  heaped  upon  it.  Its  own  emphatic  action 
also  tears  rocks  from  the  mountain  sides  and  takes 
them  along  with  it.  Therefore  every  glacier,  or 
branch  of  one,  has  a  confused  belt  of  boulders, 
little  and  large,  lying  as  a  border  or  fringe  on  either 
side.  It  pushes  them  along,  crowding  them  up 
the  steeps  or  tumbling  them  down.  It  breaks 
some  in  pieces,  and  then  grinds  Jheir  pieces  to 
powder.  When  two  glaciers  unite  they  combine 
these  two  fringes  of  rock  called  lateral  or  side 
moraines  into  one,  thereafter  called  a  medial  or 
middle  moraine.  This  gigantic  rampart  of  rocks, 
sometimes  an  eighth  of  a  mile  wide  and  twenty 
feet  high,  thereafter  moves  down  the  valley  near 
the  middle  of  the  ice  on  which  it  rests.     Thus  the 


The  Mediterranean  Sea  o?t  the  Alps.       63 

eye  is  led  backward  by  the  line  to  the  point  of 
division,  and  then  along  the  divided  lines  to  the 
cliffs  that  gave  them  birth. 

Sometimes,  however,  a  glacier  absorbs  and 
buries  some  of  its  moraines  for  a  few  miles,  and  then 
disgorges  them  again.  If  the  gorge  be  too  narrow 
to  receive  a  new  tributary  at  its  full  width,  the 
stream  must  flow  faster  and  deeper.  And  if  the 
meeting  streams  *  incline  toward  each  other,  the 
inner  edges  with  their  burdens  of  rock  must  be 
folded  under  and  the  rocks  buried.  But  after  be- 
ing carried  for  miles  in  their  icy  tomb,  the  sun 
comes,  bright  as  the  resurrection  angel,  thaws  away 
their  cold  grave  clothes,  and  they  come  out  to  the 
life  and  warmth  of  day  once  more. 

The  joy  of  no  day  on  a  dashing  river,  leaping 
from  log  to  log,  ever  equaled  my  day  on  this  frozen 
river,  leaping  from  floating  rock  to  rock,  and  bil- 
low to  billow.  I  began  at  the  lower  end  where  the 
ice-river  ceases,  and  the  water-river  dashes  full 
and  wide.  The  water  seems  colder  than  any  ice. 
It  is  white  with  the  flour  of  rock  that  the  strong 
ice  has  ground  to  powder.  A  small  mountain  of 
boulders  remains  at  the  lower  end,  too  large  for 
the  river  to  carry  away.  Sometimes  it  is  not  so 
very  small  either.  I  have  seen  one  of  these  ter- 
minal moraines  over  two  miles  long,  and  two  hun- 


64  Sights  aud  Insights. 

dred  feet  high.  When  several  seasons  are  cold, 
and  fail  to  thaw  away  the  descending  stream,  the 
glacier  pushes  down  the  valley  part  of  a  mile,  and 
crowd  this  mountain  along  with  it.  Then  warm 
seasons  reduce  the  glacier  to  ordinary  dimen- 
sions. But  the  moraine  remains  a  monument  of 
its  advance. 

I  clambered  up  the  rocky  sides  of  the  ravine 
when  the  glacier  was  too  precipitous  to  be  as- 
cended, and  came  upon  it  a  mile  above.  It  was 
billowed  like  the  sea.  Little  streams  that  the  sun 
had  thawed  from  the  surface  ran  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  plunged  down  fearful  depths.  These 
clefts  mostly  run  across  the  stream,  but  are  turned 
in  all  directions  if  one  part  of  the  stream  flows 
faster  than  another.  An  obstruction  or  bend  will 
cause  one  side  to  flow  faster  than  the  other,  and 
bring  the  clefts  and  billows  into  curves,  or  swing 
them  round  nearly  parallel  to  the  shore.  These 
chasms  are  from  an  inch  to  a  rod  wide,  and  often 
a  hundred  feet  deep.  They  open  down  through 
the  clear  blue  ice.  We  are  obliged  to  leap  over 
or  go  round  them.  To  slip  on  either  side  and 
drop  into  their  cold  embrace  would  most  likely  be 
death.  To  avoid  this  men  tie  themselves  together, 
so  that  one  would  not  fall  more  than  ten  feet  be- 
fore he  would  be  jerked  out  by  the  others. 


The  Mediterranean  Sea  on  the  Alps.       65 

The  extent  to  which  the  sun  thaws  the  rivers  out 
of  these  great  reservoirs  may  sometimes  be  seen  by 
a  rock,  which  has  protected  the  ice  under  it  from 
heat,  while  the  surrounding  ice  has  been  thawed 
away.  I  saw  a  slab  of  rock  thirty  feet  in  diameter 
and  ten  feet  thick  supported  by  a  shaft  of  ice  like  a 
center  table.  Its  lower  surface  was  seven  feet 
above  the  general  surface  of  the  ice.  How  many 
times  it  had  crushed  its  diminishing  pillar,  and 
commenced  the  process  again,  cannot  be  told. 

Leaving  the  glacier,  we  scaled  one  of  its  banks. 
It  was  so  steep  that,  standing  perpendicular,  we 
could  touch  the  mountain  with  our  hands.  The 
hot  sun  blazed  on  our  backs.  We  got  so  high  that 
birds  were  almost  invisible  below.  The  great  bil- 
lows of  ice  were  changed  to  wrinkles  on  the  face 
of  the  glaciers.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  path. 
But  we  toiled  on  for  a  full  hour  by  the  watch,  and 
it  seemed  long  enough  for  three  or  four.  So  we 
came  to  the  Riffle-house. 


IX. 

A  PRE-HISTORIC  GLACIER. 

•JIT  HAVE  had  a  day  of  joy  and  shouting.  It 
(g^  began  at  five  o'clock  this  morning  amid  the 
charming  hills,  fields,  and  cascades  of  Meirin- 
gen,  and  closes  now  at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening 
amid  the  eternal  desolations  and  ice  of  the  Grim- 
sel  Pass.  I  shall  have  time  to  refer  to  but  little 
else  than  what  is  indicated  in  the  title. 

Science  tells  that  the  north  of  Europe,  and  our 
own  continent  as  far  south  as  the  fortieth  paral- 
lel of  latitude,  were  once  covered  with  glaciers. 
Also,  that  the  present  glaciers  of  the  Alps  were 
once  very  much  more  extensive  than  at  present. 

I  had  seen  proofs  of  the  first  carved  in  therocks 
on  the  top  of  Mount  Holyoke,  and  in  the  erratic 
blocks  or  boulders  carried  hundred  of  miles  from 
their  original  bed.  To-day  I  have  seen  ample 
proof  of  the  second.  I  have  seen  it  before  in  a 
dozen  valleys  of  the  Alps,  some  reaching  far  into 
sunny  Italy,  but  nowhere  to  such  an  extent. 

My  first  work  was  to  climb  a  hill  of  seven  hundred 
and  sixty-eight  feet  in  height,  and  so  large  that  it  took 


A  Pre-Historic  Glacier.  67 

nearly  an  hour  to  go  over.  It  was  covered  with  ma- 
terials that  the  old  glacier  had  torn  from  the  rocky- 
sides  of  the  ravine.  Some  of  it  had  been  brought 
forty  miles.  And  as  the  ice  river  rarely  averages 
more  than  one  foot  a  day,  some  of  that  scattered  ma- 
terial may  have  been  one  thousand  years  grinding 
along  the  sides  or  bottom  of  the.  ravine  before  it 
was  deposited  at  the  glacier's  terminal  moraine. 

Coming  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Aar,  on  the 
other  side  I  saw  evidences  of  glacial  action.  The 
perpendicular  face  of  the  ravine,  a  thousand  feet 
above,  has  been  plowed  with  a  deep  horizontal  fur- 
row. A  gigantic  molding  has  been  run  along  the 
side  of  the  room,  that  shows  the  height  of  the  old, 
old  glacier.  That  is  where  the  floating  rocks  on 
the  surface  of  the  stream  eddied,  and  cut  their 
nature,  if  not  their  names,  on  enduring  tablets. 

And  notwithstanding  the  liability  of  rocks  to  fall 
away  from  such  heights,  and  lose  the  inscriptions 
the  forces  of  nature  have  cut  upon  them,  I  may 
safely  say  that  I  have  seen  miles  of  such  inscrip- 
tions still  remaining.  These  are  particularly  clear 
where  a  valley  suddenly  contracts,  and  the  stream 
must  be  driven  through  a  narrow  compass ;  or 
when  a  side  glacier  undertakes  to  crowd  itself  in 
where  there   was    scarcely  room  enough    for   the 

main   stream.     An  admirable   example  of  this  is 

5 


68  Sights  mid  Insights. 

seen  at  Chiavenna.  The  main  stream  had  come 
down  the  Val  Giacomo  from  the  heights  of  the 
Splugen,  and  found  its  bed  suddenly  narrowed  just 
below  where  the  city  now  stands.  Just  above  this 
place  the  glacier  from  the  valley  of  the  Maira  un- 
dertook to  enter.  Then  came  a  fight.  As  usual 
the  combatants  have  passed  away,  but  the  clifts 
below  the  city  bear  the  marks  of  the  strife  from 
base  to  summit. 

Near  the  summit  of  the  Grimsel,  at  the  head  of 
this  valley  of  the  Aar,  where  it  suddenly  turns 
from  north  and  south  to  west,  within  five  hours  of 
the  present  glacier,  the  action  of  the  former  one 
becomes  strikingly  apparent.  Two  granite  hills, 
which  nearly  meet  in  the  center,  almost  close  the 
entire  valley.  The  ice-stream  could  not  all  be 
driven  through  so  small  an  opening,  so  it  rose 
above  them.  Each  of  these  hills  became  polished 
by  the  action  of  ice  and  sand.  There  are  acres 
to-day  as  smooth  as  if  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
men  had  been  at  work  on  them  for  centuries.  You 
easily  distinguish  how  high  the  river  flowed.  The 
hills  are  smoothed  to  a  certain  limit,  and  splin- 
tered and  rough  above  it. 

I  have  passed  large  areas  again  and  again,  where 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine  was  polished  by  the  same 
means.     It  is  no  wonder  that  the  river  Aar,  and 


A  Pre-Historic  Glacier.  69 

every  other  one  that  comes  from  a  glacier,  carries 
so  much  powdered  granite  that  it  could  not  well 
be  whiter. 

What  a  day's  walk  it  has  been.  From  the  top 
of  the  hill  first  spoken  of,  revealed  in  the  freshness 
of  early  morning,  the  charming  valley  of  Im  Hof  is 
visibl-e.  It  is  perfectly  level,  and  embroidered  by 
the  silver  streams  of  the  Aar  in  most  intricate 
pattern.  Its  various  fields  of  green  grass,  golden 
grain,  tufted  trees,  flowers  numerous  enough  to 
give  a  prevailing  tint  of  crimson  to  some  sections, 
others  browned  by  the  shadows  of  the  vast  mount- 
ains that  stand  on  every  side,  produce  the  im- 
pression that  it  must  be  a  picture  of  some  fairy 
land.  At  your  left  is  a  gorge  three  hundred  feet 
deep,  and  not  more  than  twenty  wide.  Through 
the  bottom  the  river  dashes.  You  stand  entranced, 
gazing  first  at  the  rural  beauty  of  the  sweet 
valley,  and  then  at  the  awful  grandeur  of  snow- 
peaks  that  surround  it  on  every  side. 

I  have  passed  dozens  of  cascades  that  would 
make  the  reputation  of  any  White  Mountain  vil- 
lage. They  have  wonderful  beauty  and  variety. 
Some  leaped  from  the  crags  a  solid  volume  of 
water,  but  before  the  awful  descent  was  accom- 
plished they  had  turned  to  spray.  The  wind 
drifted  these  white  clouds  hither  and  thither,  as 


JO  Sights  and  Insighh^ 

easily  as  it  might  lift  a  bridal  vail.  On  one  or 
two  instances  ii  took  up  the  little  child  born  on 
the  heights,  that  was  falling  from  its  home,  and 
gently  carried  it  back  up  the  precipice,  and  re- 
stored it  to  its  mother.  Then  the  wayward  child 
tumbled  off  again,  and  again  the  patient  wind  re- 
turned it  to  its  place.  There  were  cataracts  up- 
ward as  well  as  downward. 

I  came  to  the  falls  at  Handeck.  I  was  in 
a  ravine  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  deep.  Every 
foot  bore  evidence  that  the  water  had  cut  this 
path  for  itself  out  of  the  living  rock.  The  chasm 
was  full  of  blinding  spray.  As  I  looked  up  to  the 
infinite  treasures  of  water  pouring  from  above,  I 
thought  to  myself,  "  This  fall  is  like  the  Reichen- 
bach."  I  ought  to  have  known  better.  God 
never  makes  such  things  as  cataracts  alike.  He 
may  repeat  himself  in  flowers  and  sunbeams,  but 
every  such  thing  as  a  mountain  or  cataract  has  an 
individuality.  Climbing  to  the  top  I  discovered 
it.  The  milky  river  comes  roaring  from  the  south, 
and  takes  its  fearful  plunge  far  deeper  than  Ni- 
agara. Every  drop  seems  to  stand  out  from  its 
fellows  from  horror  at  the  plunge.  The  mountain 
torrent  Aerlenbach,  just  thawed  out  of  the  vast 
snow-fields,  comes  dashing  down  from  the  mount- 
ains at  the  west,  and  within  fifteen  feet  of  the  other 


A  P re-Historic  Glacier.  71 

fall,  plunges  into  the  same  abyss.  The  water  from 
the  west  meets  the  water  from  the  south  about 
half  way  down,  and  the  noonday  sun  seals  the 
marriage  with  a  ring  of  rainbow  color. 

To-night  I  sleep  nearly  half  a  mile  higher  than 
last  night.  The  narrow  path  hither  has  often  run 
along  the  face  of  precipices,  with  the  river  roaring 
and  dashing  a  hundred  feet  below.  Just  above  me 
is  a  little  lake,  from  the  surface  of  which  the  ice  is 
never  thawed.  In  1799  the  Austrians  and  French 
fought  for  the  possession  of  these  icy  solitudes, 
and  put  their  dead  under  the  cold  ice  of  the  lake. 

I  have  shivered  here  for  an  hour  past  in  my 
overcoat.  Although  it  is  the  middle  of  July  I 
cannot  keep  warm.  I  will  put  myself  under  these 
warm  woolen  blankets,  and  they  will  bring  me  a 
long  tin  can  of  hot  water,  for  which  I  shall  have 
the  warmest  affection.  Meanwhile  I  am  coldly 
yours,  etc. 


X. 


A  CLIMB  TO  THIRTEEN  THOUSAND  SIX 
HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY-FIVE  FEET  ABOVE 
THE  SEA. 

HE  preparation  for  this  ascent  was  com- 
menced, unconsciously,  a  few  days  previous 
by  footing  it  over  the  Gemini — which  is 
equivalent  to  going  up  and  down  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  feet  high, 
seventeen  times,  and  walking  ten  miles  before 
noon.  The  next  preparation  was  having  forty 
nails  driven  into  each  sole,  leaving  their  large 
pointed  heads  projecting  one  eighth  of  an  inch. 
Then  followed  a  day's  work,  tramping  glaciers, 
scaling  precipices,  and  making  ascents  without 
paths  equal  to  twenty-seven  monuments  afore- 
said, to  say  nothing  of  descents.  The  day  after 
(July  15)  was  commenced  with  a  short  excursion 
of  three  hours  before  breakfast  in  three  inches  of 
new  fallen  snow  with  frozen  shoes,  not  to  say  feet, 
up  the  Gorner  Grat,  an  ascent  of  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  sixty-two  feet,  to  see  the  sun 
rise.  The  afternoon  was  spent  in  harmony  with 
the  morning.     Then  came  to-day. 


A  Climb.  73 

The  porter  announced  himself  by  a  loud  rap,  and 
the  time  by  saying,  "Two  o'clock."  We  rose  at 
once,  and  were  ready  as  soon  thereafter  as  possi- 
ble. We  moved  out  over  a  rough  hillside  with,  as 
yet,  no  hint  of  a  summer  morning.  Half  of  an  old 
moon  partially  illuminated  Our  way  when  not  ob- 
scured by  flying  clouds.  An  extremely  rough 
precipice  of  one  thousand  feet  was  descended  with 
great  care,  and  the  lateral  moraine  of  the  Gorner 
glacier  entered.  It  consisted  of  loose  blocks  of 
stone,  from  the  smallest  size  to  blocks  twenty  feet 
in  diameter.  These  had  been  driven  up  the  steep 
hillside  a  hundred  feet,  and^  seemed  like  a  huge 
furrow  turned  by  some  irresistible  plow. 

Soon  after  the  rough  mountainous  ice  was  en- 
countered, and  the  way  picked  and  followed  with 
something  of  an  idea  of  what  might  happen  if  the 
aforesaid  nails  should  not  hold,  and  we  be  dropped 
into  a  crevasse  of  unknown  depth.  Soon  the 
medial  moraines  were  met,  and  one  after  another 
the  whole  ten  vast  winrows  of  rocks,  a  hundred  or 
two  feet  wide,  forty  high,  and  one  mile  long,  were 
passed.  Then  the  path  led  up  the  steep  incline 
of  a  branch  glacier,  and  tints  of  the  morning  be- 
gan to  appear. 

Coming  to  a  cataract  in  the  ice  stream,  we  were 
compelled  to  leave  its  bed  and  clamber  up  a  rocky 


74  Sights  and  Insights. 

precipice  about  two  hundred  feet  high.  Breakfast 
for  the  second  time  was  taken  on  a  shelf  half  way 
up,  and  the  sun  hung  our  dining-room  with  more 
gorgeous  decorations  than  any  fresco  painter  ever 
proposed. 

We  soon  came  upon  another  glacier,  stretching 
for  miles  every  way.  I  asked  the  guide  how  far  it 
was  to  that  ever-present  enormous  Matterhorn,  that 
seemed  within  a  pistol  shot ;  and  he  said,  "  Two 
hours'  walk."  Up  this  vast  plain  we  passed,  until, 
soon  after  six  o'clock,  we  reached  the  summit  of 
the  pass,  two  thousand  eight  hundred  and  seventy- 
one  feet  higher  than  we  started.  We  had  also  re- 
ascended  the  one  thousand  feet  of  our  early  de- 
scent. We  then  went  into  the  highest  human  hab- 
itation in  Europe,  ten  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  feet  above  the  sea. 

Just  before  us  stood  the  Breithorn,  crowned  with 
a  few  hundred  feet  of  snow,  looking  rosy  and  warm 
in  the  morning  sunlight.  We  had  not  thought  of 
ascending  it,  but  it  looked  too  bewitching,  too  near, 
and  the  guide  settled  the  question  by  saying  he 
would  show  us  all  the  lakes  of  Italy.  The  time 
allowed  for  its  ascent  from  this  point  is  three  hours 
of  hard  work.  It  would  lengthen  the  regular  time 
of  our  journey  to  about  fifteen  hours.  It  was  now 
time  to  make  special  preparations  for  ice  walking. 


A  Climb.  75 

Every  man  I  had  seen  come  in  from  an  ice  journey- 
had  looked  much  the  color  of  the  nose  of  a  hard 
drinker.  And  the  regular  thing  to  expect  from  an 
all-day  trip  in  high  altitudes  is  to  have  every  ex- 
posed part  peel,  not  only  once,  but  three  times,  and 
leave  one  looking  like  a  new  baby  for  a  long  time 
after.  I  have  seen  men  whose  faces  were  so  sore 
that  it  was  impossible  to  eat  any  thing  of  greater 
consistency  than  soup  for  supper.  To  avoid  this 
they  frequently  cover  every  exposed  part  with 
melted  grease.  Not  anxious  to  treble  on  ourselves 
St.  Bartholomew's  style  of  martyrdom,  we  set 
about  devising  protection.  Now  I  dislike  as  much 
as  Diogenes  to  have  any  thing  darken  my  land- 
scapes; but  I  accepted  a  double  blue  vail,  and  put 
over  that  a  pair  of  green  goggles.  Being  roped  to- 
gether about  ten  feet  apart,  so  that  if  one  fell  into  a 
crevasse,  or  lost  footing  and  slid  down  the  mountain 
side,  he  need  not  go  more  than  ten  feet  before  he 
could  be  fished  up,  we  set  out.  The  landscape,  or 
the  snowscape,  was  full  bright  enough.  And  when 
a  neck  blushed  under  the  warm  kisses  of  the  sun, 
it  coyly  protected  itself  behind  the  turned  up  flange 
of  a  turn-down  collar. 

The  snow  was  yet  perfectly  hard.  With  diffi- 
culty the  edge  of  the  shoe  could  be  driven  in  suffi- 
ciently  to  afford  foothold  in  the  steeper  slopes. 


76  Sights  and  Insights. 

Then  the  guide  cut  amazingly  small  places,  into 
which  a  toe  or  heel  could  be  placed,  and  so  we 
worked  up.  It  may  be  conceived  to  be  a  difficult 
thing  to  go  up  stairs  two  hours  at  a  time.  But 
what  if  there  are  no  stairs,  and  a  thousand  feet  be- 
low you? 

There  spreads  before  my  mind  now  that  immense 
field  of  snow,  mountain-plateau,  side  and  summit 
covered.  It  stretches  for  miles.  It  crowns  the 
tops.  It  is  crowded  off  its  precipices,  showing  a 
thickness  of  hundreds  of  feet.  It  constitutes  the 
immense  reservoirs  from  which  flows,  not  a  few 
feeble  fountains,  but  a  great  river,  rolling  for  cen- 
turies. 

It  creaked  under  foot,  as  if  it  were  keen  Decem- 
ber, and  not  sultry  July.  My  vail  was  a  mass  of 
ice  below  my  nose,  and  frozen  to  my  beard.  The 
ash  alpenstock  felt  like  a  pitch-fork  handle  in  a 
barn  in  winter.  Then  the  wind  began  to  blow. 
We  sheltered  ourselves  under  the  lee  the  best  we 
could.  Then  it  blew  right  do\fn  the  mountain. 
How  perfectly  huge  it  got  to  be  !  It  improved  and 
enlarged  on  acquaintance.  It  got  steeper  also. 
More  steps  had  to  be  cut.  It  looked  much  steeper 
above  than  below.  And  a  breath  of  that  thin  air 
did  not  seem  to  be  of  any  use  whatever,  so  we  took 
more,  and  at  a  fearful  rate.     It  was  not  one  foot 


A  Climb.  77 

before  the  other,  but  one  beside  the  other ;  and, 
where  steps  were  not  cut,  a  foot  dashed  sideways 
against  the  mountain  did  not  often  leave  its 
little  print  more  than  three  inches  above  the 
other. 

Suddenly  we  looked  over  a  precipice  and  there 
was  Zermat,  five  thousand  three  hundred  and  sev- 
enty feet  below.  Not  a  person  could  be  seen  in  its 
busy  streets.  Man  is  a  small  thing  when  viewed 
from  above.  Beyond  were  the  vast  Oberland  Alps, 
lifting  the  dazzling  peaks  above  the  sea  of  clouds 
at  the  base.  Close  by  were  twenty  famous  peaks, 
a  little  to  the  east  the  vast  reservoirs  of  the 
Gorner  Glacier — itself  at  our  feet,  every  moraine  of 
its  ten  tributaries  perfectly  lined  on  its  surface — a 
world  of  snow.  But  at  the  South,  Italy — its  three 
lakes  perfectly  outlined,  but  h-ardly  larger  than  on 
a  map ;  and  beyond,  the  historic  plains  of  Lom- 
bardy.  Mont  Blanc  reflected  the  sunlight  to  our 
eyes,  and  bid  us  hasten  to  her.  We  used  what  air 
there  was  in  shouting  halleluias,  and  let  breathing 
be  suspended  for  a  while.  It  is  something  to  be 
above  this  world.  You  feel  its  swing,  its  rush 
through  space.  It  has  no  mastery  of  you.  You 
have  put  it  under  your  feet. 

The  keen  air  bit  shrewdly.  We  could  easily 
conceive  ourselves  to  be   one  fifteenth  of  the  way 


yS  Sights  and  Insights. 

to  the  temperature  of  two  hundred  degrees  below 
zero.  We  remembered  the  hard  steeps,  and  re- 
solved to  come  down  more  easily.  Where  we  were 
not  obliged  to  put  our  feet  carefully  in  the  cut  steps 
we  sat  down,  and  with  an  alpenstock  for  a  break, 
shot  away  like  the  good  old  times  of  boyhood.  O 
what   a  thing  an    Alp  would  be   for  a  sled-ride ! 

These  swift  glissades  took  us  over  the  distance 
to  the  hut  on  the  summit  of  the  St.  Theodul  Pass 
much  more  quickly  than  we  went  the  other  way. 

Half  an  hour  of  long  leaps  in  the  softened  snow 
brought  us  down  from  the  hut  to  where  God  had 
planted  whole  fields  with  his  forget-me-nots ;  and 
two  hours  later  settled  us  at  ease  in  our  inn  at 
Val  Tournanche.  We  have  been  twelve  hours  on 
foot,  almost  without  resting ;  have  been  up  Bunker 
Hill  monument  thirty  times  and  down  forty,  besides 
putting  a  long  distance  behind  us.  We  are  tired, 
but  we  have  lived  high  and  long  to-day. 

Already  my  companion  is  sleeping  heavily  in 
bed.  Whenever  he  turns  he  discovers  his  tender 
point,  and  wakes,  saying,  "  O  my  sore  ears !  " 


XL 

HOW  TO   MAKE  A  MOUNTAIN. 

lHE  Matterhorn  is  such  a  mountain  as  was  for 
a  long  time  deemed  inaccessible  by  men  who 
could  stand  with  perfectly  steady  nerves  on 
cny  precipice,  who  could  face  a  cliff  and  let  an- 
other man  scramble  up  their  backs,  then  take  the 
upper  man's  feet  in  their  hands  and  lift  him  up  till 
he  could  find  some  projection  to  which  he  could 
cling  with  finger-nails  and  eyelids,  and  by  an  in- 
definite repetition  of  the  process,  scale  any  access- 
ible height.  It  is  such  a  mountain  that  four  out  of 
the  seven  who  first  made  the  ascent  fell  four  fifths 
of  a  mile,  almost  perpendicularly,  in  attempting  to 
come  down.  It  requires  such  care  in  descent,  that 
it  takes  five  hours  to  come  down  a  distance  that  was 
ascended  in  three  hours.  It  is  such  a  spike  of  a 
mountain,  that  men  have  declared  that  no  power 
could  have  driven  it  up  through  the  crust  of  the  earth 
and  left  standing  on  end.  Thus  it  remained  the  pons 
asinorum  of  geologists  till  some  one  declared  that  it 
was  but  the  remaining  splinter  of  a  once  lofty  range. 
Now  that  is  an  easy  thing  to  read  and  accept ; 


80  Sights  and  Insights. 

but  power  to  comprehend  must  result  from  a  very 
extensive  education,  under  the  tuition  of  the  hu- 
gest  object-teaching  the  Creator  ever  set  on  foot  in 
this  world.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that  a  mountain 
range  has  been  lifted  as  high,  or  higher  than  the 
Matterhorn  ;  but  the  crucial  question  is,  What  has 
become  of  the  rest  of  it?  What  force  so  mighty 
as  to  carry  away  huge  mountains,  and  yet  so 
quiet  as  not  to  topple  down  the  splinter  that 
remains  ? 

You  commence  the  a,  b,  c  of  your  education  at 
Visp,  Switzerland,  or  Chatillon,  Italy.  You  see 
swift,  tumultuous  rivers  running  freight  trains  that 
never  stop,  and  never  get  by,  on  express  time  and 
a  fearful  down  grade — never  encumbering  the  road 
by  returning  empty  cars — and  the  whole  unending 
train,  for  uncounted  thousands  of  years,  white  as 
milk  with  powdered  rock.  And  so  it  will  carry 
freight  from  mountain  to  sea  as  long  as  gravitation 
draws,  and  the  sun  returns  the  empty  trains  along 
the  upper  air  lines. 

You  get  a  new  text-book  on  the  same  subject  as 
you  pass  over  acres  of  rock-freshet,  hundreds  of 
feet  deep,  that  some  mountain  torrent  tore  out  of  a 
gully  and  spread  over  the  plain.  Two  days  before 
I  passed  Frutigen,  a  swollen  mountain  torrent  put 
its  nose  under  a  few  million  tons  of  rock,  rolled  it 


How  to  Make  a  Mountain.  81 

down  the  mountain,  pulverized  it  with  its  own 
weight,  covered  three  farms,  and  buried  a  saw-mill 
fifteen  feet  deep  in  ten  minutes.  You  never  know 
when  one  of  these  stout  fellows  will  roll  up  his 
sleeves  and  go  to  work.  I  have  .seen  in  twenty 
different  places  where  such  shovelers  have  been  at 
work  this  summer  as  would  fill  the  Back  Bay  in 
twenty-four  hours  if  they  could  be  kept  steadily  at 
it  under  proper  direction.  I  would  contract 
to  fill  at  ten  dollars  an  acre  if  I  had  one  under  my 
control.  That  is  one  feeder  for  the  down  freight 
train  of  the  river. 

You  go  into  a  higher  class  in  the  same  branch  of 
education  as  you  walk  along  narrow  valleys  under 
precipices  a  few  thousand  feet  high.  There  is  a 
hundred  or  two  feet  of  debris  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliff.  But  out  in  the  plain  you  see  where  these 
mountain  Titans  have  been  playing  marbles,  and 
left  their  little  pebbles,  ten,  twenty,  or  seventy  feet 
in  diameter,  lying  loose  around  the  playground. 
They  drop  them  every  year.  You  see  some  that 
have  rushed  down  like  thunderbolts  this  very  sum- 
mer. Think  of  having  one  of  these  uninvited  vis- 
itors hastily  knock  at  your  back  door  some  dark 
night  and  ask  admittance.  There  is  no  time  to  par- 
ley, and  you  can't  well  refuse.  The  natives  often  put 
their  houses  in  the  lee  of  a  great   fellow  in   case 


82  Sights  and  Insights. 

another  should  follow  the  same  track.  That  is 
another  bringer  of  down  freight. 

But  much  of  this  material  is  too  coarse  for  the 
river's  carrying.  There  must  be  some  almost  in- 
finite mills  to  grind  the  grist  to  powder.  Well, 
there  are — hundreds  of  them.  Some  are  twenty 
miles  long,  five  miles  wide,  and  seven  hundred  feet 
deep.  They  are  greatly  reduced  from  what  they 
once  were ;  but  still  they  do  a  thriving  business, 
and  each  one  gives  a  river  more  rock  dust  than  it 
can  carry.     Of  course,  I  mean  the  glaciers. 

Now  come  about  two  thirds  the  way  up  the  Mat- 
terhorn,  full  high  enough  for  you  or  me,  and  finish 
your  education.  Perhaps  you  have  sat  in  the  la- 
mented Powers'  studio  at  Florence,  and  seen  the 
chips  fly  from  the  solid,  marble,  and  feature  after 
feature  of  some  friendly  face  appear.  Here 
beamed  a  smile,  there  thought  mounted  its 
throne — and  every-where  soul  appeared.  Alas  ! 
since  the  time  of  Pygmalion,  it  is  only  the  soul 
of  the  worker.  So  I  sit  down  here  and  see  God 
working  away  at  the  Matterhorn.  I  hear  the  fall 
of  the  pieces  chipped  away.  It  is  impossible  to 
approach  many  parts  of  the  mountain  on  account 
of  the  constant  cannonade  of  rocks  from  above. 
You  see  what  you  take  to  be  a  well-trodden  path 
to  the  summit — it  is  a  well-trodden  path  from  the 


How  to  Make  a  Mountain.  83 

summit.  And  such  a  volley  of  stones,  broken 
from  the  steep  sides,  rushes  down  the  path  that 
you  can  scarcely  cross  between  the  shots. 

What  becomes  of  the  pieces  ?  Look  down  on 
two  sides,  and  afterward  on  the  third,  and  there 
are  those  immense  ice  mills  ready  to  receive,  carry, 
crush,  and  deliver  to  the  swift  river  all  that  comes. 
Look  at  the  north-east  side.  The  Matterhorn  gla- 
cier covers  the  first  portion  of  the  mountain  base 
where  snow  can  linger.  It  does  its  best  with  the 
d'tbris  of  that  whole  side.  Then  it  delivers  it 
over  to  the  'Zmut  glacier  for  a  second  grinding. 
That  is  a  grist-mill  that  covers  five  square  miles ; 
and  so  thoroughly  is  its  work  done  that  there  is 
no  terminal  moraine  at  the  lower  end.  The  river 
can  lift  it  all.  Glance  at  the  south-east  side.  There 
runs  the  Furggen  glacier,  doing  the  same  work. 
So  on  the  south  side.  Walking  over  the  surface 
you  can  hear  the  craunch  that  crushes  rock  to 
sand,  and  the  grind  that  turns  sand  to  dust. 
Therefore  the  rivers  never  lack  their  burden; 
therefore  there  is  no  accumulation  of  chips  about 
the  foot  of  the  monument,  or  statue,  while  the 
work  goes  on. 

One  might  think  this  process  would  tend  to  flat- 
ness,   and   not   precipitousness.      Not   so.     Clear 

awav  the    foot  of  a  mountain,  and  the  pressure 

6 


84  Sights  and  Insights. 

of  the  superincumbent  mass  is  so  immense  that 
rock  will  not  abide,  but  flies  in  splinters.  Coal 
often  leaps  out  like  grape-shot  from  the  breast  of 
a  gallery,  because  it  cannot  endure  the  pressure 
of  the  mountain  above.  The  lower  down  the 
greater  the  pressure,  and  the  greater  the  ten- 
dency to  break  away.  Thus  the  mountain  is  un- 
dermined. Then  follows  a  breaking  down  of  the 
cliffs  above,  and  where  a  range  of  mountains  stood 
sublime  there  only  remains  a  solitary  shaft.  The 
rest  is  on  the  plains  of  Italy,  Switzerland,  and  in 
the  sea. 

Never  shall  I  forget  my  first  clear  vision  of  its 
majesty  and  glory.  It  had  rained  dismally  all 
night.  But  up  in  its  upper  airs  the  wind  had 
driven  the  moist  snow  against  its  steep  sides,  and 
whitened  it  from  summit  to  base.  At  nine  o'clock 
Sunday  morning  the  enfolding  clouds  rolled  away, 
and  it  stood  out  in  the  heavens  above  without  any 
visible  support,  white  as  an  angel's  wing,  pure  and 
stable  enough  for  the  throne  of  God.  I  felt  awed, 
and  almost  afraid.  For  an  hour  or  two  the  shift- 
ing clouds  gave  us  visions  of  as  much  as  we  could 
bear  till  we  went  to  church,  and  heard  read  the 
lesson  of  the  day :  "  In  His  hands  are  the  deep 
places  of  the  earth :  the  strength  of  the  hills  is  his 
also." 


How  to  Make  a  Mountain.  85 

Neither  shall  I  ever  forget  my  last  visions.  I 
was  going  down  through  deep  ravines  and  among 
lofty  mountains  to  Chatillon,  thirty  miles  to  the 
south.  Again  and  again  I  bade  it  farewell,  think- 
ing that  I  had  gazed  upon  its  sublime  head  for  the 
last  time.  But,  again  and  again,  its  dazzling  white- 
ness would  peer  out  over  the  dark  mountains  with 
which  I  was  surrounded.  It  never  seemed  to  grow 
more  distant.  It  almost  assumed  the  appearance 
of  a  personality,  watching  me  down  through  the 
dark  surroundings  of  the  ravine.  It  seemed  like 
the  pillar  of  cloud  to  the  Israelites — as  if  God 
were  in  it.  It  showed  how  hard  it  is  to  get  away 
from  great  things  and  questions.  They  meet  you 
at  every  turn ;  tower  over  you  like  a  colossus  of 
doom,  or  angel  of  protection.  And,  when  the 
great  thing  enlarges  into  the  infinite,  you  can  never 
begin  to  get  away. 


XII. 

A     GERMAN     PORTFOLIO. 
A  Picture  of  Social  Life. 


JF  CHANCED  upon  such  a  bit  of  pure  German 
PIT  life  here  last  night  that  I  must  sketch  it.  We 
came  from  Antwerp  via  Aix-la-Chapelle.  As 
we  sat  taking  our  supper  I  saw  an  advertisement 
of  an  Abonnements  Concert,  to  be  given  in  the 
hall  immediately  adjacent  on  that  very  evening. 
Even  before  we  were  half  through  supper  the 
doors  were  thrown  open,  and  we  had,  mingled 
with  our  dessert,  some  of  the  choicest  productions 
of  Mendelssohn,  Sivori,  Paganini,  Mozart,  and 
Weber.  We  did  not  finish  that  supper  till  ten 
o'clock.  It  was  as  if  we  had  chanced  upon  a  bit 
of  real  nature  in  a  shady  grotto  in  spring-time, 
where  there  was  a  smell  of  violets  but  no  sight  of 
them,  an  assurance  that  May  flowers  must  grow  in 
such  a  place,  a  place  full  of  musical  water  and 
birds,  and  you  have  only  to  half  doze  to  have  it 
full  of  nymphs  and  dryads.  So  we  found  a  real 
bit  of  German  nature,  and  we  knew  it  by  the  smell. 
I  had  asked  a  half  a  dozen  men  not  to  smoke  in 


A  German  Portfolio.  8? 

the  cars  during  the  day's  ride,  for  the  ladies  were 
not  used  to  it.  Immediately  some  one  else  would 
get  in,  and  Sysiphean  work  had  to  be  begun  anew. 
But  here  every  man,  and  some  women,  began  to 
puff.  It  looked  like  too  large  a  job  to  enforce 
"  nicht  rauchen  "  on  that  crowd.  Besides,  for  that 
very  thing  they  had  come.  The  hall  was  set  with 
little  tables.  Waiters  circulated  every-where, 
bottles  abounded,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
affecting  passages  in  C  minor  you  would  hear  the 
squeaking  pop  of  the  cork.  The  smoke  cloud's 
rolling  dun  got  so  thick  that  it  was  difficult  to  see 
clearly.  Then  was  introduced  the  witch's  dream. 
The  music  was  most  weird,  full  of  unexpected 
starts  ;  strains  began,  and  turned  to  something 
else.  Fifty  Germans  jerking  at  fiddles,  whanging 
on  cymbals,  and  the  jerkiest  of  them  all  standing 
up  on  high  in  a  dense  fog  acting  as  a  conductor, 
were  enough  to  realize  to  our  dull  senses  any  con- 
ception the  witchiest  witch  ever  had.  When  I 
used  to  go  to  fireworks  on  Boston  Common,  they 
were  wont  to  burn  all  sorts  of  compounds  of  vil- 
lainous saltpeter  to  get  a  sulphurous  canopy  over 
head,  black  enough  to  make  the  later  fires  show 
brightly.  So  here.  It  needed  a  thick,  heavy 
atmosphere,  one  that  would  not  vibrate  sharply 
and  quickly,  that  the  soft,  tender  passages  might 


88  Sights  and  Insights. 

glide  softly  and  gently.  So  audience  and  musicians 
combined  to  produce  the  finer  effects. 

The  music  was  marvelously  well  done,  the  drink- 
ing and  smoking  marvelously  ill  done.  Even  the 
ladies  unused  to  smoke  forgot  its  presence  in  some- 
thing so  fine  and  spirituelle.  Hereafter  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  ask  people  not  to  smoke  in  the  cars. 
The  worst  feature  of  it  was  a  family  of  English- 
speaking  people,  I  trust  not  Americans,  who 
entered  into  the  whole  thing  with  the  greatest 
zest,  consuming  cigars  by  the  dozen,  and  bottles 
of  wine  even,  the  mother  and  little  son  declining 
neither.  We  unanimously  concluded  that  we  did 
not  wish  any  young  man,  in  whom  we  were  inter- 
ested, to  come  to  Germany  till  he  was  wine  and 
smoke  proof,  that  is,  as  safes  are  fire  and  burglar 
proof,  to  keep  them  out. 

It  is  needful  that  concerts  be  cheap  in  Germany; 
for  how  could  one  ask  a  lady  to  an  entertainment, 
where  the  price  of  the  music  poured  into  the  ear 
would  be  small  compared  to  the  price  of  the  wine 
poured  into  her  throat,  and  the  smoke  poured  into 
her  nose  ?  The  musicians  all  came  down  into  the 
audience  during  the  long  recess,  and  clinked 
glasses,  and  helped  their  friends  add  another  de- 
gree of  dinginess  to  the  smoked  atmosphere,  then 
went  back  and  played  their  softest.     We  every- 


A  German  Portfolio.  89 

where  see  that  fineness  dwells  with  grossness* 
Some  finest  fancies  are  distilled  from  bad  gin ;  and 
evidently  some  of  the  finest  music  can  be  rendered 
and  thoroughly  enjoyed  by  wine-bibbers  and 
smokers. 

Cologne  Cathedral. 

I  have  always  had  the  reputation  of  going  wild 
on  cathedrals.  I  am  willing.  I  have  always  con- 
tended that  the  one  at  Milan  bore  away  the  palm. 
I  repent.  This  one  at  Cologne  is  incomparable. 
Perhaps  I  adhered  to  Milan  because  I  saw  it  last, 
and  maybe  shall  again. 

"  How  happy  I  could  be  with  either^ 
Were  t'other  dear  charmer  away." 

Think  of  an  arched,  groined,  solid  brick  ceiling, 
one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  high,  supported  by 
sixty  clusters  of  branching  columns  ;  of  five  aisles 
five  hundred  and  eleven  feet  long,  two  towers 
five  hundred  and  eleven  feet  high,  covered  not 
with  a  roof  that  one  sees  or  thinks  of,  but  with  a 
forest  of  five  thousand  pinnacles  connected  with 
flying  buttresses,  a  perfect  wilderness  of  stone, 
filled  with  myriad  leaves,  roses,  arabesques,  and 
even  seemingly  living  things.  No,  you  cannot 
think  it.  It  is  no  use  to  try.  But  come  and  see 
it ;  and  if  you  do  not  run  about  its  vastness,  admire 


90  Sights  and  Insights. 

a  hundred  varying  pictures,  shout  halleluia  like 
a  well-born  Methodist,  and  declare  it  is  the  grand- 
est conception  of  the  brain  and  creation  of  the 
hand  of  man,  you  are  very  different  from  me. 
This  one  building  is  worth  coming  three  thousand 
five  hundred  miles  to  see ;  and  when  I  remember 
that  the  British  Channel  is  part  of  the  distance,  it 
is  saying  a  great  deal,  but  not  too  much. 

We  went  into  the  sculptors'  shops  and  saw  new 
blocks  just  finished,  full  of  fresh,  new  beauty ;  for 
this  building,  founded  six  hundred  years  ago,  is 
not  yet  finished.  But  all  Germany  is  actively 
pushing  its  completion.  It  almost  seemed  a  pity 
that  such  single  blocks,  so  beautiful  in  form  and 
foliated  cusp — one  finial  twenty  feet  high,  just 
placed,  won  unbounded  admiration  at  the  Paris 
Exposition — should  be  lost  in  the  immensity  of  the 
structure,  and  the  contiguity  of  a  thousand  others. 
But  there  could  be  no  grand  cathedral  else.  Every 
individual  helps  to  make  the  grand  completeness. 
And  the  true  eye  sees  every  one.  So  when  the 
living  stones  are  polished  to  the  similitude  of  a 
palace,  and  builded  into  the  temple  of  our  God 
for  a  habitation  of  the  Spirit,  no  stone  will  be  too 
beautiful  for  the  structure,  none  overlooked  by  the 
all-seeing  Eye.  Blessed  is  he  who  is  fit  to  be 
placed  near-the  chief  Corner-stone. 


A  German  Portfolio.  91 

Rhine  Hills  and  Wiesbaden  Plains. 

(Like  many  another  picture,  this  one  is  chiefly- 
valuable  because  it  is  somewhat  old.     1869.) 

The  relation  between  these  seeming  contrarieties 
is  simple  and  intimate.  After  days  of  lounging 
among  the  hills  of  the  ever-beautiful  stream,  I  am 
whirled  into  this  unbroken  plain  at  evening,  and 
though  I  left  there  hills,  toil,  poverty,  frugality, 
and  find  here  plain,  luxury,  wealth,  and  wasteful 
prodigality,  yet  the  connection  seems  natural  and 
intimate.  Even  the  bees  labor  not  for  their  own 
profit,  and  the  laboring  classes  toil  to  support  the 
waste  of  the  idle.  The  wine  grows  on  the  slowly 
disintegrating  stone  of  the  Rhine  hills,  but  it  is 
brought  here  to  be  consumed.  I  have  seen  more 
money  staked  and  lost  here  in  half  a  minute  than 
the  toil  of  hundreds,  along  the  steeps  of  the  Rhine, 
could  produce  in  a  year.  Were  it  not  that  the  mill- 
ion toiled  for  the  thousand  to  spend,  there  must  be 
less  prodigality.  While  these  laces  and  jewels  are 
before  my  eye,  I  see  through  them  all  to  the  hard 
toil  of  so  many  hundreds  who  earn,  but  never 
wear  them.  Up  those  extremely  steep  hills  are 
toiling  in  the  hot  sun,  without  which  no  grape  could 
hoard  its  sweetness,  hundreds  of  women,  with  hard 
hands,  bare  arms,  and  coarsest  raiment,  all  their 
blighted   lives,  to   earn   the  gold  that  that  finely 


92  Sights  and  Insights. 

dressed  lady  lays  with  such  seeming  carelessness 
on  the  gaming  table,  for  such  a  brief  moment,  till 
the  wheel  of  fate  stops  and  the  banker  rakes  it  in. 
For  a  dozen  centuries  have  the  millions  of  Europe 
been  giving  their  earnings  to  the  few,  and  hence 
a  few  such  places  as  this  are  possible. 

How  like  a  mounting  devil  in  the  heart  rules 
and  raves  the  passion  for  gambling.  I  first 
thought  it  was  all  in  fun.  The  gambling  had  just 
opened,  the  stream  of  chat  flowed  quite  noisily. 
People  hardly  cared  to  look  whether  the  chances 
were  favorable  or  not.  The  bankers  hoed  in  and 
flung  out  without  much  scrutiny.  But  soon  all 
talk  stopped.  Players  kept  lists  of  all  the  lucky 
numbers ;  they  consulted  lists  kept  on  former  occa- 
sions. Hands  began  to  tremble.  Faces  grew  hard 
and  sharp.  Color  came  and  went.  Breathing 
was  audible  in  many  cases.  One  old  man  had 
been  lucky  for  a  long  time.  He  left  his  growing 
pile  on  the  lucky  number  till  it  reached  a  very 
large  sum,  when  all  at  once  it  went  to  the  banker's 
hoard  at  one  fell  swoop.  He  fell  back  into  a  chair, 
and  did  not  rally  for  a  long  time.  A  brown,  hard- 
handed  man  came  in,  and  reached  over  and  laid 
down  his  coin,  evidently  his  only  piece,  just  earned 
likely.  He  lost  and  turned  away,  penniless,  no 
doubt.     An   old   lady,   evidently   not  rich,  stood 


A  German  Portfolio.  93 

nervously  fingering  a  small  bag  of  coin.  Several 
times  she  won,  and  looked  exultant ;  then  lost 
nearly  all  she  had.  Such  a  revulsion  of  feeling  is 
inexpressible  in  words. 

Around  me  was  an  Eden  garden,  all  of  beauty 
and  grace  that  God  gives  to  trees,  twining  vines, 
blooming  roses,  flowing  water,  and  graceful  birds. 
But  here  also  Satan  had  come  ;  here  he  proffered 
the  seductive  fruit ;  here  came  men  to  eat  greedily, 
even  after  they  found  it  to  be  evil,  only  evil,  and 
that  continually.  The  few  hundreds  that  play 
here  lose  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  thousand 
dollars  every  year,  and  still  they  play  on,  and  will, 
till  the  law  that  has  doomed  the  practice  goes  into 
force  some  two  years  hence. 

Castle  of  the  Wartburg. 

Its  commanding  height  was  soon  reached,  its 
relics  of  Luther  and  Saint  Elizabeth  examined, 
and  I  sat  down  to  view  the  vast  stretch  of  country 
that  lies  at  the  foot  of  this  place  of  power.  I  lin- 
gered long  after  the  sun  had  gone  down,  and  the 
full  moon  lit  up  the  wide  landscape. 

As  I  sat  on  the  old  drawbridge,  long  after  every 
thing  about  the  castle  had  become  quiet,  and  the 
sounds  of  life  in  the  city  below  had  sunk  to  rest, 
I  closed  my  eyes,  and  saw  troops  of  the  men  that 


94  Sights  and  Insights. 

for  ages  have  made  this  place  their  strong  tower. 
They  passed  in  by  me — crusaders  from  Palestine, 
pilgrims  from  Rome,  peasants  asking  charity,  lords 
having  extorted  taxes,  slaves  bearing  burdens,  ty- 
rants dragging  captives ;  all  the  old  armor  in  the 
museum  was  full  of  men,  those  mailed  forms  of 
horses  were  prancing  with  life,  and  just  as  all  the 
past  lived  before  me  in  imagination,  some  one  be- 
gan to  play  a  harp  in  reality  in  one  of  the  rooms 
above  me,  and  the  grand  contest  of  skill  among  the 
Minnesingers  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago 
became  a  thing  of  to-day.  Other  instrumental 
music  followed,  and  the  contest  seemed  to  be  go- 
ing forward,  when  suddenly  all  was  changed  in  a 
moment.  A  magnificent  voice  began  to  sing  Old 
Hundred.  Three  hundred  years  passed  in  a  flash, 
and  Luther  was  there  in  the  very  room  where  he 
so  often  sung,  if  he  did  not  compose,  that  grand 
old  song  of  praise.  The  contest  of  warriors  dis- 
appeared, the  trial  of  singers  became  as  nothing, 
for  Luther  sang  to  fight  the  devil.  His  carnal 
weapon,  the  inkstand,  had  proved  unavailing,  and 
having  learned  that  the  "  devil  cannot  abide  good 
music,"  he  was  pouring  forth  the  best  he  knew  to 
his  discomfiture.  There  was  an  evident  spirit  of 
victory  ringing  out  in  those  exultant  notes.  The 
song  ceased,  and  I  could  see  Luther,  in  what  he 


A  German  Portfolio.  95 

called  his  Patmos,  writing  his  translation  of  the 
Bible,  to  give  God's  word  to  the  people  of  Ger- 
many.    What  a  word  of  power  ! 

For  hundreds  of  years  Power  has  had  here  its 
seat.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  it  made  itself 
felt  century  after  century.  Up  this  hill,  over  this 
drawbridge,  under  this  heavy  gateway,  have  come 
suppliants  asking  mercy,  subjects  bringing  tribute, 
mighty  men  to  do  homage ;  but  it  has  all  passed 
away,  and  the  power  never  reached  beyond  the 
horizon's  rim.  But  in  that  cell  that  looks  out  on 
the  western  sky,  yet  faintly  blushing  with  the  hues 
of  sunset,  sits  a  man  preparing  to  send  out  God's 
word  of  power.  It  goes  forth,  and  the  continent 
cannot  contain  its  divine  energy.  It  runs  to  and 
fro  in  the  whole  earth  ;  it  increases  with  the  lapse 
of  time.  Surely  this  is  the  place  to  learn,  that 
while  some  trust  in  horses,  and  some  in  chariots, 
we  should  remember  the  name  and  word  of  the 
Lord  our  God. 

Palaces  and  Hovels. 

I  have  walked  through  many  palaces,  have  been 
wearied  with  their  extent,  dazzled  by  their  brill- 
iancy, and  amazed  at  their  incalculable  richness. 
But  right  by  their  doors  I  come  to  the  hovels  of 
the  poor.     I    do  not  wonder  that  Death  knocks 


g6  Sights  and  Insights. 

with  equal  step  at  their  several  doors ;  they  are 
close  together.  I  see  in  the  very  gardens,  where 
the  velvet  turf  is  not  good  enough  for  the  feet  of 
royalty,  old,  withered,  crushed  women,  down  on 
their  scarcely  protected  knees,  delving  their  hands 
in  the  dirt.  They  have  never  known  ease,  refine- 
ment, development.  They  are  beasts  of  burden. 
They  stagger  under  loads  it  often  takes  two  men 
to  lift  to  their  backs.  I  have  seen  girls  not  eight 
years  old  already  put  into  training  for  the  life  from 
which  there  can  be  no  escape.  As  I  think  of  this 
these  treasures  of  fine  gold  become  dim,  the  silver 
is  cankered,  these  gorgeous  tapestries  are  moth- 
eaten.  Much  as  I  love  art  and  beauty,  I  should 
like  to  sell  four  or  five  palaces  I  have  seen,  and 
devote  the  proceeds  to  the  elevation  of  the  peas- 
antry, whose  ancestors  have  earned  it  all. 

I  close  here  in  Berlin  as  I  began  near  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine,  for  the  same  thought  has  been 
pressed  on  me  at  every  step.  A  hundred  toil  for 
one  to  waste.  Every-where  are  we  told  that  the 
life  of  the  toiler  is  of  no  value.  Let  it  be  ex- 
pended in  works  of  folly.  Amid  all  these  bound- 
less gatherings  in  museums  there  is  nowhere  shown 
a  labor-saving  machine.  An  old  pipe  of  some 
despicable  tyrant,  a  toe-nail  of  some  disreputable 
saint,  a  plate  out  of  which  some  king  had  his  dog 


A  German  Portfolio.  97 

eat,  is  much  more  highly  prized.  So  men  mow,  I 
suppose,  though  I  have  seen  ten  women  mowing,  to 
one  man,  with  a  straight,  heavy  snath.  They  hoe 
with  such  abominable  instruments,  that  the  temp- 
tation to  go  down  on  one's  knees  and  dig  with  the 
hands  is  often  yielded  to.  They  clatter  round  in 
heavy  wooden  shoes.  When  I  consider  that  a 
German  has  clogs  on  his  feet,  and  a  tremendous 
pipe  always  in  his  teeth,  I  cease  to  wonder  at  the 
slowness  of  his  movements. 

The  Grander  Rhine. 

I  apply  this  descriptive  phrase  to  the  river  Elbe, 
at  the  close  of  a  long  ride  upon  its  waters.  Its 
features  of  grandeur  and  its  pictures  of  beauty  are 
all  fresh.  Its  long  and  varied  panorama  is  still 
floating  before  me.  To  be  sure,  the  Rhine  pict- 
ures are,  farther  back,  overlaid  by  a  thousand 
pictures  of  art  and  nature,  succeeded  by  scenes 
of  the  greatest  civil,  aesthetic,  and  ecclesiastical 
importance.  But  still  I  think  the  epithet  to  be  a 
proper  one,  and  believe  I  shall  think  so  when 
time  shall  have  set  the  two  panoramas  at  such 
distance  as  to  make  the  comparison  more  just. 

The  two  rivers  have  much  in  common.  Each 
is  born  in  the  Alps,  has  very  few  tributaries,  is  so 
fed   from    eternal   hills    that   they  know  little  of 


98  Sights  and  Insights. 

drought  in  summer;  each  flows  mostly  through  very 
level  and  fertile  plains,  and  has  near  its  middle 
portion  a  mountainous  region  of  about  one  hun- 
dred miles,  through  which  to  make  its  way  amid 
scenes  of  alternate  sublimity  and  beauty. 

The  Rhine  is  superior  to  the  Elbe  in  historic 
interest.  Along  its  narrow  shores  have  tramped 
the  legions  of  the  armies  of  all  adjacent  nations 
since  history  told  us  of  its  existence.  By  its  side 
one  begins  to  feel  amazed  that  there  meets  him  at 
such  a  distance  from  Rome,  over  the  intervening 
Alps,  along  its  ways  of  such  extreme  difficulty, 
such  astonishing  proof  of  the  power  of  the  empire 
of  the  "  Eternal  City."  The  pilgrimage  to  Rome 
begins  in  England.  It  lies  along  the  highway  of 
this  ancient  river.  Indeed,  one  almost  seems  to 
have  reached  the  Rome  he  has  read  of  in  Tacitus 
and  Caesar  as  name  after  name,  inscription  after 
inscription,  and  abundant  sculpture  from  Roman 
chisels,  meet  his  eye.  Along  this  river  have 
marched  the  armies  of  nearly  all  modern  Europe. 
Here  feudalism  flourished,  and  here,  thank  God ! 
died,  leaving  such  gigantic  relics  of  its  power  as 
to  make  one  wonder  that  tyranny  could  attain  such 
dominance,  and  servitude  such  utter  subjection. 

But  the  Elbe  has  its  advantages  over  the  Rhine. 
Its  mountains  are  higher,  their  forms  much  more 


A  German  Portfolio.  99 

picturesque.  The  history  of  man's  connection 
with  it  is  much  more  pleasing,  and  the  condition 
of  man  along  its  banks  far  better.  Most  of  the 
rock  is  a  white  sandstone.  Cleavage  is  both  hori- 
zontal and  perpendicular.  Frequently  a  rock  will 
be  so  eaten  out  into  fissures,  perpendicularly,  as  to 
appear  like  the  many-columned  nave  of  a  Gothic 
church.  Frequently  they  rise  in  regularly  taper- 
ing pinnacles.  Ofttimes  vast  rounded  masses  seem 
poised  on  columns  quite  too  small  for  their  sup- 
port. The  walls  have  a  perpendicularity  that  is 
calculated  to  fill  one  with  awe,  as  the  steamer  runs 
so  near  as  to  be  crushed,  should  one  of  the  rounded 
masses  be  started  by  a  breath.  Houses  are  built 
with  only  three  walls,  the  rock  affording  a  fourth. 
Houses  are  inserted  where  five  hundred  feet  of 
rock  overhangs  the  roof.  Standing  on  the  bow  of 
the  steamer,  you  can  sometimes  hardly  hear  the 
noise  of  the  swift  paddle-wheels,  for  the  multi- 
tudinous echoes  of  them  that  sound  like  a  near 
cascade. 

The  condition  of  man  is  more  pleasing.  The 
region  is  not  cursed  with  wine-raising.  The  houses 
have  a  neat,  roomy,  and  comfortable  look.  The 
flying  shadows  on  the  waving  fields  of  grain  are 
much  more  beautiful  than  the  ghastly  stiffness 
of  peeled  vine-stakes.      The  mountain  sides  are 


ioo  Sights  and  Insights. 

worked  as  quarries  for  scores  of  miles.  There  is 
greater  wealth  in  stone  and  ice  than  in  all  the  rich 
blood  of  the  grape.  Fewer  women  were  at  work 
in  the  fields ;  their  homes  were  worthier  of  their 
care.  Thus  is  shown  the  influence  of  the  Protes- 
tant religion.  For  Catholicism  bestows  on  one 
woman  such  adoration,  that  it  absolves  itself  from 
respect  to  all  the  rest  of  womankind.  I  saw  the 
change  back  again  as  I  came  to  the  Bohemian 
frontier,  above  Aussiz.  Crosses  stood  by  the  road- 
side, and  crowned  the  highest  hills ;  near  by  were 
thirty  women  in  one  field,  and  soon  after  a  gang  at 
work  in  a  quarry,  and  another  shoveling  earth  on 
a  railway  embankment. 

There  is  a  very  extensive  commerce  on  the  Elbe, 
hardly  any  on  the  Rhine.  Enterprise,  thrift, 
beauty,  sublimity,  combined  in  single  pictures  or 
succeeding  each  other  in  alternating  visions,  and 
crowded  into  a  day  of  unusual  beauty,  have  united 
to  render  this  a  day  of  richest  experiences. 

A  Pbague  Picture. 

Lounging  out  into  an  open  square  at  half  past 
eight,  just  after  getting  into  Prague,  I  saw  a  pict- 
ure somewhat  novel.  Before  a  monument,  into 
which  had  been  set  a  bedizened  figure  of  the  Vir- 
gin, illuminated   by  half  a  dozen   candles,  sat  a 


A  German  Portfolio,  101 

priest,  in  citizen's  dress,  chanting,  with  forty  Yan- 
kee nasal  power,  a  mass.  Occasionally  he  shook 
a  quart  cup  that  had  a  few  kreutzers  in  it,  as  an 
invitation  to  the  faithful  to  make  further  deposits. 
His  musical  accompaniment,  copper  rattled  in  tin, 
seemed  to  chime  excellently  with  his  voice.  His 
manner  was  that  of  supreme  indifference  to  every 
thing  but  the  prospect  of  cash.  His  audience  was 
made  up  mostly  of  the  poorest  class  of  women, 
kneeling  on  the  hard  stones  beside  their  laid-off 
burdens.  They  joined  occasionally  in  the  chant, 
and  continually  inspected  the  new  arrivals.  A  lady 
stood  among  them  rather  elegantly  dressed.  She 
was  more  studied  than  any  Venus  I  have  seen  in 
all  the  galleries  of  art  I  have  visited  in  a  fortnight. 
They  went  over  her  with  hungry  eyes,  from  head 
to  foot,  again  and  again.  Some  forgot  chant  and 
rosary  in  the  inspection,  and  others  not.  Breath- 
ing a  prayer  to  the  Creator  that  he  would  hear  all 
sincere  praying,  I  turned  away  from  what  was  a 
pretense  of  worship.  O  for  another  John  Huss 
in  Prague ! 


XIII. 

STRASBURG  CATHEDRAL. 

^ATHEDRALS  have  their  individual  char- 
'  acteristics  as  truly  as  their  builders. 
The  peculiarity  of  this  one  consists  in 
having  a  kind  of  out-work  of  slender  columns, 
arches,  and  inclosed  niches,  thrown  like  a  vail  of 
barred  muslin  over  the  front.  In  some  places  it 
nearly  conceals  the  background  of  cathedral  wall, 
and  holds  the  eye  in  its  entanglement  of  beauty. 
Especially  when  the  westering  sun  casts  the  shad- 
ows of  this  projected  out-work  upon  the  main  wall 
it  seems  doubled,  and  the  real  wall  almost  hidden. 
When  one  considers  that  this  kind  of  work  is  car- 
ried up  four  hundred  and  sixty-six  feet,  the  light, 
graceful,  airy  effect  that  is  produced  must  be  con- 
fessed to  be  indescribable.  Into  this  delicate 
tracery  crashed  the  shells  and  balls  of  the  Ger- 
mans in  1870.  Its  effect  can  be  imagined.  You 
can  stand  in  one  spot  and  count  where  thirty  shells 
struck  the  spire.  They  tore  into  this  slender 
drapery ;  they  crashed  through  its  gorgeous  win- 
dows ;  they  smote  interior  columns,  leaving  great 


Strasburg  Cathedral.  103 

ugly  scars  that  time  cannot  heal.  One  made  wild 
music  in  the  organ,  never  intended  by  the  builder ; 
and  on  the  night  of  August  25,  the  roof  over  the 
vast  church  took  fire.  Streams  of  melted  copper 
poured  down  the  gutters,  and  spires  of  flame 
leaped  up  to  vie  with  the  tallest  spire  of  stone  man 
has  ever  erected.  The  flames  ceased  only  when 
there  was  nothing  more  to  burn.  Still  the  French 
maintained  a  post  of  observation  in  the  spire,  and 
still  the  Germans  rained  their  shells  upon  it.  The 
very  cross  on  the  apex  was  hit,  and  saved  from 
falling  only  by  the  lightning-rod.  They  say  the 
building  was  struck  by  two  hundred  and  fifty  shells. 
The  general  effect  is  much  less  than  might  be 
expected.  A  careless  observer  might  hardly  notice 
any  effect  of  the  bombardment.     The  open  work 

let  the  shells  pass  in  to  the  solid  stone  and  out 
again.  You  see,  far  up,  part  of  a  battlement  gone, 
a  pillar  replaced  by  brick-work,  and  some  light 
scantling  where  stone  ought  to  be.  To  be  sure, 
the  roof  is  not  yet  replaced,  but  this  is  hardly  no- 
ticeable from  the  ground,  as  the  solid  arches  over 
the  church  were  not  affected  by  the  destruction  of 
the  roof.  The  building  teems  with  workmen,  and 
soon  most  of  the  marks  of  war  will  be  seen  only 
by  bright  new  stones  that  take  the  place  of  those 
injured. 


104  Sights  and  Insights. 

This  magnificent  structure  has  seen  many  perils, 
and  survived  them  all.  It  has  been  shaken  by 
four  earthquakes,  struck  by  lightning,  and  more 
or  less  thrown  down  nine  times — has  been  ravaged 
by  fire  five  times — endured  the  Jacobin  fury  in 
1793,  tearing  down  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
of  the  statues,  and  proposing  to  treat  its  lofty  spire 
as  they  treated  the  column  in  the  Place  Vendome 
in  Paris  eighty  years  later.  But  it  stands  in  such 
wondrous  perfection  as  to  make  one  see  the  pro- 
priety of  comparing  God's  spiritual  work  to  a  tem- 
ple. Begun  long  ago,  it  is  not  yet  finished — room 
enough  for  new  stones ;  and  none  of  it  old. 

It  stands  where  the  Celts  once  had  a  Druidical 
forest,  and  offered  human  victims.  The  Romans 
built  on  the  spot  a  temple  to  Hercules  and  Mars. 
One  of  the  statues  of  the  former  still  decorates 
the  present  building.  Since  510  the  site  has  been 
occupied  by  a  Christian  church.  About  1015,  one 
of  those  spasms  of  sacrifice  seized  the  country, 
and  from  one  to  two  thousand  men  toiled  at  the 
erection  of  this  cathedral — not  for  pay,  but  for  the 
salvation  of  their  souls.  Grander  than  sculptured 
frieze,  lofty  column,  grand  facade,  and  pinnacled 
spire,  is  the  fact  connected  with  nearly  all  these 
old  cathedrals,  that  men  toiled  at  their  deep  foun- 
dations, cut  the  hard  stone  into  beauty,  and  lifted 


Strasburg  Cathedral.  105 

it  into  its  place  for  the  good  of  their  souls,  for  the 
joy  of  sacrifice.  It  sweetens  much  of  the  taint  of 
blood  that  so  deeply  stains  those  ages. 

It  is  hard  at  first  to  reconcile  one's  ideas  of  a 
church  with  the  multitude  of  possible  and  impos- 
sible animals  that  these  old  builders  scattered  over 
their  structures.  You  may  stand  either  on  the 
north  or  south  side  and  count,  without  moving, 
over  thirty  huge  animals,  with  heads  of  bulls,  dogs, 
bats,  gnomes,  and  fiends,  put  on  the  most  incon- 
ceivable bodies,  and  projecting  two  or  three  feet,  to 
serve  as  ornaments  and  water-spouts.  Some  tear 
their  jaws  open  with  their  hands,  to  let  the  water 
run  out ;  others  are  doubled  up  with_a  perpetual 
belly-ache ;  others,  again,  have  snch  an  evident 
nausea,  that  a  stream  from  the  mouth  is  the  most 
natural  thing  to  be  expected.  They  grin,  leer, 
cock  their  heads  one  side,  and  seem  to  .roar  with 
pain  day  and  night,  century  by  century.  Gothic 
seems  the  right  word  to  apply  to  this  style.  But 
these  old  builders  believed  that  imps  thronged  the 
churches,  so  they  set  them  to  service,  always  on 
the  outside — made  them  bearers  of  water — set  them 
to  do  menial  work.  But  that  grim  humor,  that  ran 
almost  wild  in  producing  quaint  images,  could  curb 
itself  to  carving  the  holy  exaltation  of  an  angel's 
face,  or  the  tender  sweetness  of  a  child's. 


106  Sights  and  Insights. 

Something  is  needed  for  variety,  where  such  an 
immense  number  of  human  statues  are  introduced. 
Eighteen  equestrian  statues  will  be  needed  to  fill 
the  niches  on  the  front.  A  single  portal  has  fifteen 
life-size  statues,  seventy  groups  of  statues  (of  from 
two  to  five  figures)  twenty  inches  high,  and  so  ad- 
mirably done  that  the  Scripture  scenes  they  rep- 
resent are  recognizable  at  once;  besides  ninety- 
six  figures  cut  in  bas-relief.  In  addition  to  all 
this  statue-work,  the  pedestals,  canopies,  little  an- 
imals, not  over  three  inches  long,  and  arabesque 
work,  fine  as  a  worsted  thread,  are  too  wonderful 
for  description.  Nothing  short  of  a  study  should 
be  given  to  these  grand  results  of  human  thought 
and  toil.  All  the  best  work,  thought,  feeling,  and 
love  of  centuries  crystallized  in  these  glorious  piles. 
What  seems  but  a  maze  of  meaningless  marbles  at 
first  glance,  marches  out  as  the  whole  story  of  sin, 
redemption,  and  final  glory,  to  him  who  patiently 
lingers  to  study  and  feel.  These  men  were  earnest, 
and  full  of  the  sublime  gospel  that  they  put  into 
stone.  Few  in  those  ages  could  read  the  printed 
page  ;  but  written  in  stone,  the  one  object  that  tow- 
ered toward  heaven,  the  first  the  sun  kissed  in  the 
morning,  and  the  last  on  which  he  smiled  at  night, 
every  untaught  peasant  could  read  "  that  sweet 
story  of  old."     And  because  we  have  learned  other 


Strasburg  Cathedral.  107 

languages,  and  have  other  pages  to  read,  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  be  blind  to  what  men  felt  in 
their  hearts,  slowly  cut  into  stone,  and  set  up  to 
endure.  There  is  often  more  power  to  stir  feeling 
in  a  stone  than  in  a  page.  Each  truly  holds,  and 
yet  utters  what  feeling  was  put  into  it.  The  very 
gates  and  stones  of  Jerusalem  were  precious  to 
God  and  his  people.  So  is  every  stone  over  which 
a  human  heart  has  brooded,  till  it  has  been 
warmed  into  life,  and  made  to  take  the  heart's 
meaning.  How  much  more  where  millions  have 
been  builded  into  shapes  of  beauty  and  power. 

I  have  been  to  four  churches  to-day,  besides 
the  Cathedral.  Various  attractions  were  offered 
to  fill  the  houses,  and  with  various  results.  The 
first  was  a  funeral.  It  was  quite  successful,  for 
death  has  always  a  strong  interest.  Even  the 
Christian  hope  only  mitigates  its  severity,  and 
leaves  survivors  suffering  within  the  limits  of  en- 
durance. The  next  was  royal  congregational 
singing,  with  a  great  German  volume  of  sound, 
and  it  succeeded  pretty  well.  The  next  was  the 
monumental  church  of  St.  Thomas.  It  had  some 
of  the  most  striking  results  of  art,  good  preaching, 
and  military  patronage,  in  its  favor.  It  was  filled. 
The  next  was  the  Church  of  England  service. 
There  were  twenty  present. 


108  Sights  and  Insights. 

Then  I  went  to  the  Cathedral.  There  was  a 
dense  mass  of  humanity,  standing  up  and  packed 
together;  I  could  hardly  wedge  myself  into  it. 
The  mass  sweat  and  steamed.  Every  man  took 
a  Turkish  bath  in  five  minutes,  without  charge; 
stretched  his  neck,  and  stood  on  tip-toe.  What 
in  the  world  was  it  ?  I  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
any  service.  Soon  I  discovered.  The  cock  was 
about  to  crow,  and  the  puppets  to  march  on  the 
great  clock.  They  did  their  work  as  they  have 
done  it  every  day  at  noon  for  years,  and  that 
crowd  melted  in  a  different  sense  from  what  it 
threatened  to  five  minutes  before. 

I  advise  every  Church  that  has  not  full  houses  to 
get  a  wooden  cock  to  crow  at  10.30  a.m.,  and  have 
the  pastor  begin  immediately  after. 


XIV. 

UNDER  A  SALT  MOUNTAIN. 

fHAVE  just  had  a  new  sensation.  Previously 
I  have  explored  the  surface  of  the  world, 
sailed  on  its  rivers,  climbed  its  mountains,  and 
crossed  its  plains ;  but  to-day  I  have  been  down  to 
the  "  waters  under  the  earth."  Ten  o'clock  found 
me  walking  through  a  long  avenue  lined  on  either 
side  with  magnificent  trees,  leading  to  the  entrance 
of  the  salt  mine  at  Berchtesgaden.  Turning  to  the 
left,  and  stepping  into  the  office,  I  bought  a  ticket 
of  admittance,  and  was  attired  in  proper  costume — 
white  pants,  black  sack  coat,  girdle,  and  cap. 
This,  with  a  lantern  carried  in  the  hand  or  stuck 
in  the  belt,  completed  the  equipment.  The  cos- 
tume of  the  ladies  being  the  same,  they  were  con- 
gratulated on  obtaining  their  rights  at  last.  Pre- 
ceded by  a  guide,  we  walked  straight  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountain  twelve  hundred  feet,  through 
a  tunnel  built  of  solid  masonry.  At  the  end  we 
turned,  and  going  up  a  flight  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty-six  steps,  came  to  the  borders  of  a  salt  sea, 


no  Sights  and  Insights. 

It  is  quite  large,  and  of  an  irregular  shape,  lighted 
at  intervals  by  small  lamps  placed  around  the 
edge.  These  are  so  perfectly  reflected  in  the  calm 
water  below  as  to  appear  like  two  rows.  Two 
small  boats  were  at  the  shore,  and  the  silent  boat- 
men standing  by  beckoned  us  to  them.  They 
might  have  resembled  the  boatmen  of  Charon  for 
their  silence  and  blackness,  and  the  gloom  of  the 
still,  dark  water.  Our  own  voices  seemed  so  hol- 
low, and  so  out  of  place,  that  they  were  quickly 
hushed,  and  naught  was  heard  save  the  ripple  of 
the  water  against  the  prow  of  the  boat,  and  the  dip 
of  the  oars.  As  we  approached  the  center,  the 
sound  of  falling  water  was  suddenly  heard,  and, 
turning,  we  discovered  a  fountain  had  burst  up 
close  by  us.  The  streams  lifted  themselves  up  in 
the  darkness,  and,  gleaming  in  the  uncertain  light 
a  moment,  fell  again  with  as  sweet  a  music  as 
though  playing  in  the  bright  sunshine  above.  Our 
silent  boatmen  rowed  us  away  to  the  other  side, 
and  we  were  glad  to  be  on  land  once  more,  even 
though  it  was  under  the  surface. 

This  water  is  brought  into  the  mountain  for  the 
purpose  of  extracting  the  salt  and  rendering  its 
transportation  easy.  It  is  conducted  down  to 
Berchtesgaden,  and  there  pumped  up  over  the  hills, 
and  allowed  to  run  in  pipes  to  Trauenstein,  Rosen- 


9741 


Interior  of  a  Salt  Mine  :    The  Slide. 


Under  a  Salt  Mountain.  1 1 3 

heim,  and  other  places  more  than  thirty  miles 
away.  There  the  water  is  evaporated  by  allowing 
it  to  trickle  down  through  cords  of  loose  brush, 
built  into  high  walls  often  five  thousand  feet  long. 
Curiously  enough,  just  before  this  brine  becomes 
sufficiently  evaporated  to  have  the  salt  deposit 
itself  in  the  solid  form  of  cubic  crystals,  it  is  suf- 
ficiently evaporated  to  have  the  impurities  crystal- 
lize and  deposit  themselves  on  the  bushes,  leav- 
ing the  salt  brine  pure.  The  bushes  then 
have  the  appearance  of  trees  after  a  heavy  fall 
of  snow,  when  no  wind  has  brushed  it  from  the 
branches. 

A  few  steps  away  from  the  sea  we  came  to  a  new 
way  of  getting  down  stairs.  There  was  a  smooth 
shoot,  inclined  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees ; 
seating  ourselves  in  this,  we  slid  to  the  bottom  in 
two  seconds.  Hair  flew,  garments  fluttered ;  sus- 
picions of  slivers  flashed  horribly  upon  us;  queries 
as  to  whether  that  deep  blackness  might  not  be 
bottomless  were  just  starting  into  prominence, 
when  the .  slope  suddenly  became  less  steep,  and 
we  reached  the  bottom.  I  wonder  such  sliding 
down  stairs  has  not  been  introduced  into  every 
house.  This  descent  brought  us  to  another  long 
archway,  through  which  we  passed,  coming  out  in 
a  large  room  where  two  men  were  at  work.     The 


1 14  Sights  and  Insights. 

walls  were  of  rock  salt,  and  in  these  they  were 
drilling  holes  for  blasting.  We  next  came  into  a 
gallery  from  which  we  looked  down  into  another 
excavation  sixty  feet  below  us.  A  second  enjoy- 
able slide  took  us  to  the  bottom. 

We  then  came  to  what  is  called  the  mineral  cab- 
inet. Here  was  an  arched  entrance  made  of  the 
translucent  rock  salt.  Behind  each  block  a  lamp 
had  been  placed,  the  light  of  which  shone  through 
with  a  pure  white,  pale  yellow,  or  delicate  rose 
tint.  Beyond  this  arch  is  a  small  recess  of  a  semi- 
circular shape.  At  the  back  is  a  large  block  of 
pure  white  salt  with  a  crown  carved  on  the  front 
and  under  it  an  JT,  the  initial  of  Ludwig,  King 
of  Bavaria,  who  is  owner  of  the  mine.  In  front 
of  it  is  a  small  jet  of  the  saltest  water  playing  into 
a  basin  ornamented  with  stones  found  in  the  mine. 
Around  the  sides  of  the  recess  were  pyramids 
formed  of  salt  crystals  and  curiosities. 

Turning  our  backs  on  this  beautiful  exhibition, 
we  found  a  carriage  standing  ready  to  take  us  out 
of  the  mine.  Not  such  a  carriage  as  would  be 
used  in  Central  Park  of  New  York,  or  the  Champs 
Elysees  of  Paris,  but  one  far  better  adapted  to  the 
place.  It  is  a  bench  ten  feet  long,  and  mounted 
on  a  wheeled  platform.  I  seated  myself  astride 
of  it,  and,  drawn  by  the  power  of  gravity,  dashed 


Under  a  Salt  Mountain.  115 

along  the  dark  underground  passages  with  such 
speed  as  extinguished  the  lights,  and  left  us  rum- 
bling on  in  darkness  toward  the  door.  We  knew 
the  passage  was  small ;  we  could  touch  either  side 
as  we  rushed.  How  low  it  might  be  we  had  no 
means  of  judging.  What  perils  lurked  for  us  in 
that  utter  blackness,  what  trains  we  might  meet, 
what  accidents  might  occur,  might  be  dreaded  but 
not  imagined.  Suddenly  we  burst  out  into  the 
light  of  day. 

How  this  vast  mass  of  salt  came  here  we  should 
be  glad  to  know.  In  Bex  it  forms  a  perpendicular 
vein,  and  baffles  investigation.  Elsewhere  it  often 
seems  to  be  the  residuum  of  dried-up  seas,  leaving 
in  a  solid  mass  all  the  salt  the  rivers  brought  from 
a  continent.  Three  per  cent,  of  the  ocean  is  salt, 
accumulated  in  the  long  ages,  by  having  every 
river  bring  what  it  has  washed  from  the  soil,  and 
having  none  leave  by  evaporation.  The  whole 
amount  would  equal  five  times  the  mass  of  the 
Alps,  stretching  as  they  do,  like  crested  billows  of 
the  sea,  two  hundred  miles  wide  and  one  thousand 
miles  long.  Dry  up  a  portion,  and  it  would  easily 
make  a  mountain  of  salt. 

Sprinkling  a  little  dust  of  salt  this  evening  on 
the  butter  that  all  Europe  insists  on  giving  you 
fresh,  I  fall  into  a  little  meditation  on  how  much 


1 1 6  Sights  and  Insights. 

butter  the  salt  taken  out  of  those  twelve  miles  of 
passages  and  sub-montane  caverns  would  season. 
It  comes  to  me  that  that  one  mine  can  produce 
but  a  small  dust  in  the  balance  that  weighs  all  the 
salt  produced  in  the  world.  Men  have  consumed 
more  than  a  whole  mountain  of  salt.  Europe, 
alone,  uses  five  millions  of  tons  in  a  single  year. 
It  is  amazing,  especially  when  we  consider  that  it 
is  as  really  rock  as  granite.  Our  two  hundred  men 
moiling  under  Hohe  Gohl  can  only  produce  a 
six-thousandth  of  the  whole.  I  wonder  the 
whole  race  has  not  followed  the  example  of  Lot's 
wife. 

Yet  I  have  a  kind  of  fondness  for  this  sparkling 
mineral.  It  is  the  emblem  of  the  most  delect- 
able Attic  thought ;  the  pledge  of  the  Arab's 
friendship ;  the  symbol  of  the  preserving  power 
of  grace.  I  must  knead  a  little  more  into  this 
butter. 


XI. 

OVER  THE  SPLUGEN. 

fT  is  quite  an  experience  to  live  through  the 
varied  history  of  a  single  day ;  it  has  its  silver 
dawn,  bright  noon,  and  golden  close.  It  is 
more  to  absorb  into  one's  permanent  acquisitions 
all  the  fleeting  impressions  of  a  year.  It  has  the 
irrepressible  outburst  of  life  in  spring,  the  bloom 
of  summer,  the  wealth  of  autumn,  and  the  rest  of 
winter.  It  is  richer  yet  to  pass  from  the  intoxi- 
cating luxuriance  within  the  tropics,  where  every 
spot  of  earth  and  every  breath  of  air  teems  with 
exuberant  life,  to  the  frozen  regions  where  only 
the  hardiest  animals  are  found,  and  only  the 
lichens  can  embroider  a  feeble  fringe  on  the  robes 
of  retreating  winter.  How  much  longer  and 
richer  is  that  experience  that  lives  through  human 
history  and  is  familiar  with  its  feelings,  national 
peculiarities,  loves,  hates,  the  inspirations  of  lib- 
erty, the  assumptions  of  tyranny,  and  the  resultant 
struggles  that  have  converted  a  thousand  plains 
to    battle-fields,    and    a  thousand    mountains   to 

strongholds,  held  desperately  by  a  handful  when 

8 


Ii8  Sights  and  Insights. 

assaulted  as  desperately  by  armies.  But  how- 
much  longer  and  richer  is  that  experience  that 
embraces  the  evolutions  of  the  geological  eons. 
It  begins  with  feeling  the  moving  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  on  the  formless  void  ;  it  hears  the  first,  "  God- 
said  ;  "  it  is  present  at  the  grand  setting  up  of 
suns  and  planets ;  hears  the  world's  ribs  crack,  and 
feels  its  whole  frame  tremble  as  the  mountains  are 
raised  and  the  dry  land  appears  ;  it  sees  the  earth's 
crust  modified  through  primary,  secondary,  and 
tertiary  developments ;  the  beginning  and  develop- 
ment of  life  in  a  million  grades ;  and  it  feels  the 
grand  pulses  of  the  life  of  God  beating  with  in- 
cessant throb,  from  that  first  stir  in  the  darkness, 
up  to  the  last  thrill  of  a  loving  soul  that  is  leaping 
to  the  love  of  God. 

There  is  one  place  where,  to  the  extent  of  a  man's 
ability  to  feel,  all  these  experiences  may  be  crowded 
into  a  single  day ;  and  that  place  is  an  Alpine  pass. 
He  begins  with  the  gray  of  dawn,  and  the  golden 
curtains  of  evening  are  gathered  about  his  repose. 
He  pants  in  the  summer  heat  in  the  first  hours  of 
his  journey,  but  he  puts  his  feet  on  eternal  snows, 
and  breathes  the  chill  breaths  that  come  from  the 
glaciers  before  night.  There  is  no  exuberance  of 
life  that  does  not  riot  in  tropic  Italy  as  he  leaves 
it ;  no  barrenness  of  the  poles  that  does  not  frown 


Over  the  Splugen.  1 19 

around  him  as  he  stands  on  the  summit.  In  his 
way  he  marks  where  the  inspirations  of  the  liberty 
of  these  high  peaks  have  held  these  passes  against 
hordes  of  the  minions  of  despotism,  where  ava- 
lanches have  sent  whole  columns  down  sunless 
abysses,  and  where  has  bloomed  for  centuries  that 
last  consummate  flower  of  human  government — a 
republic. 

But  he  is  especially  able  to  condense  into  a  sin- 
gle day  all  geologic  eons.  He  can  put  his  hand 
on  the  product  of  the  primeval  fire  in  the  splin- 
tered granite  of  these  peaks.  The  immense  lime- 
stone products  of  the  world  buttress  these  tall 
Alps  on  both  sides.  The  Jura  chain  lies  right  in 
sight,  as  the  hugest  exponent  of  the  limestone 
period.  Between  it  and  the  central  chain  lie  vast 
conglomerates.  The  diluvial  periods  are  at  work 
yet,  with  inconceivable  power,  in  a  hundred 
mountain  torrents  and  untamable  rivers.  Many 
a  smiling  valley  has  been  converted  into  a  desert 
of  sand,  gravel,  and  boulders,  in  a  single  night. 
When  a  gorge  takes  a  frolic,  and  the  torrent  tears 
the  rocks  from  their  bed,  and  tumbles  the  pile  down 
a  few  thousand  feet,  the  hugest  rocks  are  pulver- 
ized and  spread  over  acres  in  an  hour.  I  have  seen 
rocks  fifteen  feet  in  diameter  that  had  been  tossed 
like  pebbles  in  the  past  four  years ;  and  ten  feet 


120  Sights  and  Insights. 

of  broken  rock  that  had  been  shoveled  into  a 
man's  back  yard  only  a  few  days  before.  And 
that  great  breaking-up  plow,  the  glacier,  is  still 
turning  its  huge  furrows  among  the  granite 
boulders  and  pulverizing  them  to  dust.  Yes, 
to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  a  man  condenses  the 
widest  experiences  into  a  single  day  in  the  Alps. 

But  let  us  come  to  particulars.  Passing  by 
scenery  that  would  make  the  reputation  of  any 
country  but  Switzerland,  we  enter  the  via  mala. 
Its  first  gate-post  is  fifteen  hundred  feet  high ; 
nearly  a  third  of  a  mile.  Think  of  such  a  distance 
each  side  of  you,  and  then  raise  it  to  the  perpen- 
dicular on  either  hand.  Down  the  steep  gorge 
roars  the  young  Rhine ;  up  it  creeps  the  winding 
road.  You  soon  find  yourself  above  the  top  of 
that  tall  gate-post,  overlooking  its  summit  to  the 
plain  below.  A  stone  dropped  perpendicular  from 
the  low  parapet  of  the  road  consumes  six  seconds 
in  reaching  the  river.  The  roar  of  its  dashing  has 
sunk  to  a  whisper,  but  the  smoke  of  its  torment  in 
that  tortuous  glen  rises  forever.  The  rocks  show 
every  sign  of  the  power  that  raised  and  cleft  them. 
They  are  torn,  split,  twisted,  and  puckered,  their 
strata  contorted,  and  left  as  evidence  of  the  power 
that  took  up  these  islands   as  a  very  little  thing. 

Just  at  this  point  we  find  that  twenty  feet  of  the 


Over  the  Splugen.  121 

road  has  slipped  down  the  fearful  declivity  into  the 
river.  A  few  light  fir-trees  have  been  put  across, 
and  some  boughs  and  dirt  laid  on.  Had  I  seen  it 
before  being  right  on  the  swaying  structure,  I 
should  have  preferred  trusting  myself  on  it  alone, 
instead  of  being  in  company  with  five  horses  and 
a  lumbering  diligence.  I  think  every  one  added 
the  weight  of  a  cubic  foot  of  air  as  he  looked 
over  the  unprotected  side  into  the  river  so  far 
below. 

The  road  frequently  leaps  the  ravine  at  a  single 
bound.  A  mile  from  Rongellen  the  chasm  is  so 
narrow  that  the  river,  three  hundred  feet  below,  is 
sometimes  lost  from  view  by  reason  of  the  crook- 
edness of  the  walls.  In  1834  the  water  filled  the 
whole  depth  of  three  hundred  feet,  and  foamed 
and  dashed  almost  against  the  bridge.  You  cease 
to  wonder  that  the  road  climbs  such  airy  heights 
and  clings  to  such  dizzy  precipices,  when  you  see 
what  a  fierce  and  insurrectionary  enemy  ever  lies 
in  wait  for  its  destruction. 

These  high  mountains  have  afforded  ample  field 
for  the  development  of  engineering.  And  the  old 
Romans,  who  tramped  the  hills  and  valleys  of  three 
continents  into  roads,  have  been  admirable  ex- 
amples and  instructors  in  the  art. 

Road-making  is  a  science  peculiar  to  this  coun- 


122  Sights  and  Insights. 

try.  Fair,  smooth  places  must  often  be  avoided, 
and  the  perpendicular  precipice  chosen,  for  the 
avalanche  sweeps  the  one  irresistibly,  but  over- 
shoots the  other.  Where  these  avalanche-swept 
places  cannot  be  avoided  the  road  is  buried  under 
sloping  roofs  for  hundreds  of  feet,  that  shoot  the 
falling  mass  into  the  valley  below. 

Having  passed  the  summit  we  came  to  the  Car- 
dinal Gorge.  In  December,  1818,  General  Mac- 
donald  led  a  division  of  troops  this  way  to  Italy. 
A  severe  snow-storm  came  on,  and  the  swift  ava- 
lanches swept  the  path  again  and  again,  hurling 
whole  columns  of  men  down  the  abyss.  It  was  an 
enemy  they  could  not  fight.  Slowly  they  plodded 
on,  and,  without  warning  to  eye  or  ear,  a  wide 
gap  of  death  would  be  opened  in  their  line. 
There  were  no  wounded  to  pick  up,  no  fire  to  be 
returned,  no  shouts  to  be  uttered ;  but  they  must 
walk  on,  silently  awaiting  their  fate.  For  ten 
days  this  army  of  fifteen  thousand  men  struggled 
on,  clinging  like  insects  to  the  mountain  side,  far 
above  all  vegetation,  pierced  with  wild  winds, 
dying  of  cold,  always  breast-deep  in  snow,  often 
blinded  by  its  whirling  mist,  never  for  a  moment 
certain  of  another  hour. 

A  better  road  has  been  chosen  on  the  other  side, 
but  even  there  it  has  to  be  protected  by  sheds  for 


Over  the  Splugen.         .  123 

nearly  three  fifths  of  a  mile.  The  descent  into 
that  gorge  to  Isola  is  something  grand.  Just  be- 
fore we  commence  it  we  pause  at  the  Medesimo 
waterfall,  which  leaps  clear  at  one  bound  seven 
hundred  feet.  The  road  has  been  constructed 
right  down  the  face  of  that  precipice.  Much  of 
the  way  it  is  only  wide  enough  for  a  single  car- 
riage ;  and  you  have  no  idea  how  narrow  that 
seems,  with  a  thousand  feet  precipice  below  you. 
It  is  about  half  blasted  out  of  the  rock,  and  half 
rests  on  a  wall  built  to  its  height.  It  doubles  back 
and  forth  in  short  zigzags,  the  inner  wall  of  one 
road  being  the  outer  wall  of  the  one  above.  There 
is  a  railing  on  the  outside,  made  of  seven  by  eight 
inch  wooden  posts,  and  two  three  by  four  inch 
rails.  The  bugle  rings  its  shrill  warning  that  none 
venture  up  the  road.  The  conductor  goes  to  the 
break.  The  driver  yells  like  mad,  and  cracks  his 
whip  like  fourth  of  July.  The  horses  know  their 
work;  they  tear  down  these  fearful  declivities  at 
the  top  of  their  speed.  Two  rods  ahead  is  a  preci- 
pice of  a  thousand  feet.  Just  as  their  noses  reach 
it,  the  break  brings  all  to  a  halt.  They  spring 
round  with  their  slanted  feet  among  the  posts,  and, 
like  a  parcel  of  wild  cattle,  come  almost  parallel 
with  the  body  of  the  coach.  The  break  is  loos- 
ened, and  we  whirl  on  a  new  departure.     My  seat 


124  Sights  and  Insights. 

is  in  the  banquette,  a  seat  that  rises  high  and  pro- 
jects far  behind  the  rear  wheels.  It  is  the  place 
of  the  last  boy  in  the  game  of  "  snap  the  whip." 
Several  times  the  hind  wheels  swing  round  so  vehe- 
mently as  to  slip  toward  the  verge  of  the  precipice. 
I  am  switched  round  where  I  can  look  down  a 
thousand  feet,  and  think  of  Macdonald's  army. 
Were  this  my  first  experience  of  the  kind,  my  hair, 
limber  as  it  is,  would  stand  on  end.  As  it  is,  I 
stand  up  and  shout  as  I  would  at  a  camp-meeting. 
I  lean  out  from  my  perch,  and  gather  summer 
flowers,  just  as,  an  hour  before,  I  reached  for 
snow-balls  from  the  tunneled  drifts. 

Soon  we  come  to  a  long  Latin  inscription,  re- 
cording when  this  road  was  built  and  by  whom. 
And  the  work  is  worthy  of  record.  Man  blazons 
the  fact  that  he  is  able  to  creep  up  one  of  these 
thousand  precipices  a  lktle  way,  and  thus  tells  the 
story  of  his  power.  God's  power  is  written  all 
over  these  heights.  He  set  up  these  columns 
where  men  might  blast  a  thousand  years  and 
hardly  make  a  mark  that  an  angel  would  notice 
in  flying  over.  He  lays  up  these  reservoirs  a 
mile  above  us,  and  pours  these  cataracts  abun- 
dant for  a  thousand  years  as  for  a  day.  He 
rolls  these  rivers  on  the  earth,  but  a  broader 
one,  to  keep  them  full,  in  the  air  above.     "  Mar- 


Over  the  Spliigen.  125 

velous  are  Thy  works ;  and  that  my  soul  knoweth 
right  well." 

I  went  to  a  cemetery  yesterday,  about  the  only 
one  I  know  of  that  is  not  likely  to  be  disturbed. 
It  might  have  been  supposed  that  Cheops  would 
rest  in  peace  under  his  mountain,  or  that  Pompeii 
had  been  sufficiently  buried.  But  Cheops'  mount- 
ain was  a  magnet  that  drew  the  spoiler  and  curios- 
ity-hunter from  the  most  distant  lands,  and  the 
city  of  the  dead  is  the  busiest  part  of  Italy.  I 
read,  when  a  boy,  of  the  avalanche  in  the  beautiful 
valley  of  Bregaglia,  that  buried  the  city  of  Plurs 
so  utterly  that  no  single  soul  escaped,  nor  has  a 
single  relic  ever  been  discovered.  The  inhabit- 
ants had  been  abundantly  warned,  earth-slides 
had  taken  place  for  a  period  of  two  weeks.  The 
very  day  before  large  rocks  left  their  dizzy 
perches  and  bounded  into  the  valley.  Even  the 
domestic  animals  showed  great  fear,  and  could 
scarcely  be  driven  to  their  accustomed  pastures 
on  the  heights.  But  the  men  had  grown  careless 
in  the  midst  of  danger.  They  clung  to  their  pos- 
sessions despite  the  imminent  peril.  In  an  instant, 
at  midnight,  the  mountain  side  gave  way,  and 
buried  them  under  sixty  feet  of  broken  masses 
of  rock.  All  attempts  to  penetrate  it  were  in  vain. 
Of  the   two   thousand  four  hundred  and   thirty 


126  Sights  and  Insights. 

inhabitants  no  single  one  was  exhumed,  and  prob- 
ably never  will  be  till  the  archangel  blows  the 
last  trump. 

I  walked  up  from  Chiavenna  in  the  calm  and 
beauty  of  an  Italian  Sabbath.  The  spot  is  easily 
discovered,  though  nature  has  done  its  best  to  con- 
ceal its  work.  To-day  a  large  growth  of  chestnut 
trees  covers  the  accumulated  soil.  Far  up  the 
mountain  we  recognize  the  site  of  the  resistless 
rock  avalanche,  but  it  is  covered  with  vines  and 
flowers  that  sweeten  the  passing  breeze.  The 
cascades  leap  merrily  down  where  they  started  the 
mountain  side  into  the  valley.  And  the  musical 
Maira  winds  among  the  huge  rocks  that  rolled  far 
beyond  the  town,  and  very  materially  raised  its 
bed.     It  was  fittingly  quiet  for  a  cemetery. 


XVI. 

ADLESBERG  CAVERN. 

USKIN  says,  "  It  is  better  to  live  in  a  hut, 
and  have  Windsor  Castle  to  be  astonished 
at,  than  live  in  Windsor  Castle  and  have 
nothing  to  be  astonished  at !  "  Well,  I  must  get 
out  of  these  sublime  Alps  into  Holland,  or  some 
other  flatness,  or  pay  the  penalty  of  living  in  the 
last  degree  of  astonishment.  I  will  let  a  few  pict- 
ures come  for  an  hour,  that  so  haunt  me,  that  they 
appear  whenever  a  quiet  moment  gives  them  leave 
to  enter. 

They  pretend  to  have  a  Mammoth  Cave  in  the 
Julian  Alps ;  and  perhaps  it  is  as  mammoth  as 
could  be  expected  in  Europe.  I  went  to  its  door 
the  other  morning.  There  was  a  swift  river,  four 
rods  wide,  too  deep  to  wade  and  too  shoal  to  swim, 
running  straight  into  a  mountain.  And  when  I 
remembered,  that  river  appeared  again  twelve 
miles  from  there,  a  navigable  stream  at  the  point 
of  its  appearance,  I  began  to  feel  my  expectations 
materially  enlarge.     I  do  not  care  to  remember 


128  Sights  and  Insights. 

that  I  walked  five  miles  in  the  cave  ;  went  over 
huge  hills ;  stood  under  domes  from  two  hundred 
to  four  hundred  feet  high,  and  six  hundred  feet 
across;  that  I  came  to  and  went  over  the  same 
rushing  river ;  but  I  do  care  to  remember  always 
what  kind  of  a  workshop  God's  forces  work  in,  and 
what  works  they  produce. 

To  say  that  this  is  a  stalactite  and  stalagmite 
cavern,  in  a  limestone  formation,  means  little.  Let 
us  try  what  more  words  can  do.  We  have,  first,  a 
mountain ;  and  let  us  not  set  before  us  a  hill,  but 
an  Alp  thrown  up,  and  its  central  substance  some- 
what fissured  and  possibly  somewhat  caverned  by 
the  upheaval.  Then  there  must  be  abundant 
water  finding  its  way  through,  slowly  saturating 
itself  with  the  limestone,  and  passing  out,  carry- 
ing through  decades  of  centuries  the  dissolved 
rock,  and  leaving  the  cavern.  Then  we  must  have 
less  abundant  water,  percolating  the  mountain  from 
above,  and  dropping  at  a  million  points  from  the 
roof  to  the  floor.  Now,  in  some  places  we  observe 
stalactites,  like  icicles,  hanging  from  above ;  in 
some,  stalagmites  rising  from  the  floor;  in  some 
places,  both  ;  and  in  many,  neither. 

This  is  easily  accounted  for,  if  we  consider  the 
different  amounts  of  water,  and  the  different  dry- 
ing ability  of  the  air  in  different  places.     For  ex- 


Adlesberg  Cavern.  129 

ample  :  When  the  saturated  solution  of  lime-water 
drips  from  above,  if  the  air  can  evaporate  all  the 
water  without  its  dropping  to  the  floor,  all  the  lime 
will  be  deposited  above,  and  we  have  only  stalac- 
tites. If  no  water  is  evaporated  above,  but  is 
below,  we  have  only  stalagmites ;  if  evaporated 
from  both,  we  have  both.  If  there  is  too  much 
water  to  be  evaporated  beyond  a  saturated  solu- 
tion, we  have  neither.  If  the  water  drop  from  an 
area  two  feet  in  diameter,  we  have  a  corresponding 
large  result ;  if  from  a  single  point,  we  may  have 
formations  slender  as  our  finger,  and  of  any  length 
that  can  be  supported  in  a  perpendicular  position. 
If,  however,  there  be  too  much  water  to  be  evap- 
orated at  a  single  point,  it  may  run  over  a  larger 
surface. 

In  one  place  I  observed  them  all  standing  or 
hanging  at  a  slight  angle.  I  suppose  the  current 
of  air  to  have  moved  regularly  through,  dried  one 
side,  and  built  out  against  the  wind.  One  had  in- 
clined enough  to  catch  the  drippings  of  another 
place,  and  a  stalagmite  was  erecting  itself  on  an  in- 
clined stalactite.  In  another  plac e  the  roof  inclined 
at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degress.  Down  this 
incline  meandered  a  gentle  rill,  never  dropping  at 
all.  The  result  was  a  wide  curtain,  with  intricate 
folds,  not  thicker  than  heavy  upholstery,  and  yards 


1 30  Sights  and  Insights. 

long.  But  most  curiously,  the  lime-water  was  at 
different  times  tinctured  with  some  other  substance. 
In  one  place  it  was  iron,  and  a  strip  of  red,  half  an 
inch  wide,  was  added  to  the  length  through  all 
the  intricate  foldings  of  the  curtain.  Then  the  iron 
ceased,  and  the  pure  white  lime  appeared  again. 
All  these  formations  are  translucent,  and  a  light 
held  behind  them  produces  an  effect  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

Here  you  stand  in  the  very  laboratory  of  God ; 
you  hear  the  quiet  drip  of  his  agents.  In  one 
place,  the  point  above,  that  has  been  reaching 
in  the  dark  for  the  point  below  has  just  met,  and 
the  long-delayed  marriage  taken  place.  In  an- 
other place  they  lack  the  breadth  of  a  finger. 
Elsewhere,  the  column  is  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  di- 
ameter from  base  to  capital.  When  you  ask  for  the 
length  of  the  process  that  opens  the  cavern,  and 
then  slowly  sets  up  the  columns,  you  find  that  the 
droppings  of  the  last  thirteen  years  have  added 
only  the  thickness  of  paper  to  the  previous  mass. 
Imagination  grows  dizzy  after  calculation  has 
failed.  You  can  only  say,  "Thy  years,  O  God, 
have  no  end." 

I  have  only  hinted  at  the  vast  variety  of  forms. 
Statues  start  out  of  the  darkness  at  your  elbow ; 
forms  of  animals   suggest   themselves;    cascades 


A  dies  berg   Cavern.  131 

pour  ceaselessly  that  have  been  frozen  to  stillness  ; 
pulpits,  chapels,  arcades,  prison-bars,  constantly 
appear.  Sometimes  the  surface  is  dead  white ; 
sometimes  crystallized  into  a  million  facets,  that 
look  like  forty  bushels  of  diamonds.  As  I  remem- 
ber the  grand  illumination  of  one  of  the  great  halls, 
I  fear  there  is  nothing  of  that  kind  to  be  aston- 
ished at  till  I  see  the  walls  and  streets  of  Jerusalem 
the  golden. 


XVII. 

ALP-LIFE. 

Ji  HAVE  felt  a  touch  of  sadness  stealing  over 
^  me  at  times  to-day,  something,  I  suppose,  like 
an  east  wind  to  a  rheumatic  ;  and  when  I 
asked  for  the  cause,  it  was  manifest  that  it  was  be- 
cause I  had  left  the  Alps  behind  me.  It  may 
seem  strange  that  men  get  so  strongly  attached  to 
the  Alps.  You  often  meet  men  who  have  visited 
them  every  year  for  a  dozen  years.  Alp-climbing 
grows  into  a  passion.  Men  peril  their  lives  on  icy 
slopes,  over  crevasses,  and  on  rocky  precipices, 
and  then  return  to  them  again  with  fresh  delight. 
These  are  not  boastful,  arrogant  men,  seeking  the 
bubble  reputation  by  the  narration  of  the  difficult 
feats ;  but  quiet,  unobtrusive  men,  whose  feats 
you  hear  of  from  others,  not  themselves.  The 
various  Alpine  clubs  contain  large  numbers  of 
clergymen  and  men  of  science.  If  you  ask  why 
they  turn  to  such  peril  for  pleasure,  and  such  toil 
for  rest,  they  might  answer  somewhat  on  this 
wise : — 


Alp-Life.  133 

There  is  a  delicious  freedom  in  tossing  his  few 
pounds  of  baggage  over  his  shoulders  and  step- 
ping off  into  unknown  paths,  where  he  may  not 
meet  a  fellow-being  all  day  long.  There  is  room  to 
shout,  sing,  or  be  quiet.  The  hedging  in  of  the 
city  is  broken  down.  He  feels  kindred  to  the 
bird  that  hangs  motionless  above  the  entrancing 
landscape,  or  leaps  along  his  airy  pathway,  setting 
wide  miles  of  air  to  quivering  with  the  thrilling 
music  it  seems  to  shake  from  its  wings.  He  cares 
no  more  for  trains  and  appointments  than  the  bee 
that  buzzes  wing-deep  in  the  scented  dust  of  the 
flowers.  This  unprecedented  variety  that  sur- 
rounds him  is  assurance  against  the  cloying  of  his 
appetite.  He  wades  out  of  knee-deep  grasses  and 
flowers  into  the  fir  woods,  straight  as  shafts  of  light, 
goes  out  of  these  to  the  bare  rocks,  and  off  these  to 
scarcely  less  hard  snows  and  ice.  He  is  never 
without  bright  landscapes,  crossed  with  great  black 
shadows  of  trees,  rocks,  and  mountains.  His 
"  light  and  shade  "  is  not  Bierstadt's,  sixteen  by 
eighteen  inches,  flat  as  a  board,  and  dull  as 
painted  light ;  it  is  huge  as  the  eye  can  sweep, 
molded  by  mountains  and  bright  as  sunlight. 
Then,  too,  the  landscapes  are  never  alike.  He 
never  says  that  such  a  view,  mountain,  or  water- 
fall is  like  another.       God    has  given  variety  to 


134  Sights  and  Insights. 

vastness,  and  never,  like  us  shallow  mortals,  re- 
peats himself. 

I  have  now  been  over  fourteen  passes  in  the 
Alps,  from  the  height  of  Mount  Washington  to 
nearly  twice  its  height,  some  of  them  several 
times.  But  so  far  from  finding  sameness,  every 
one  appears  different,  and  I  would  gladly  turn 
back  to-day  to  go  over  these,  or  fourteen  more. 

Even  the  flowers,  in  which  God  seems  to  repeat 
himself,  are  in  endless  variety.  Sometimes  a  high 
slope  will  be  shimmered  over  with  the  Alpine 
roses,  like  a  bright  blush  spreading  over  a  brown 
cheek.  Then  one  meets  whole  fields  of  blue,  far 
up  under  the  blue  sky ;  charming  little  forget-me- 
nots,  bells,  and  fringed  gentians  bursting  up  in  the 
very  footsteps  of  retreating  snows ;  and  in  some 
instances  a  single  flower  will  come  up  through  a 
little  hole  in  the  snow,  hardly  large  enough  to  give 
it  standing  room ;  and  at  other  times  whole  fields 
of  them  will  be  covered  with  the  snows  of  the 
night.  They  look  cold  and  shivering  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  they  bravely  wait  till  relieved  by  those 
that  spring  forward  to  take  their  places.  Some- 
times there  is  a  bed  of  greenest  moss,  and  some- 
times a  little  plot  of  flowers,  standing  so  thickly 
together  that  there  is  absolutely  no  space  between 
them. 


Alp-Life.  135 

"  Flower  of  starry  clearness  bright ! 
Quivering  urn  of  colored  light ! 
Hast  thou  drawn  thy  cup's  rich  dye 
From  the  intenseness  of  the  sky  ?  " 

But  perhaps  that  which  charms  him  most  is  his 
own  sense  of  exuberant  life.  He  partakes  of  the 
life  that  nothing  can  daunt.  Men  who  have  crept 
wearily  along  flag-stones,  spring  and  leap  among 
rocks,  feeling  as  if  their  limbs  were  iron  and  their 
sinews  steel.  Professor  Tyndall  writes  that  he  felt 
that  his  life-work  was  almost  done  at  one  time ; 
but  faltering  out  in  his  trembling  weakness,  he 
breasted  a  mountain  till  he  washed  his  blood  clean 
of  all  the  taints  of  London  air  in  the  oxygen  of 
upper  Alps,  and  felt  life  renewed.  A  glorious 
sense  of  power  comes  to  a  man  as  he  stands  on  a 
precipice,  leaps  chasms,  or  climbs  mountains,  and 
not  a  nerve  quivers,  or  a  muscle  asks  for  rest. 

He  has  come  where  he  can  see  the  sky.  And 
that  is  more  of  a  sight  than  most  of  us  denizens  of 
the  city  know.  No  wonder  it  is  said  "  The  morn- 
ing and  the  evening  were  the  day."  A  rare  writer 
says,  "Always  look  out  for  the  sunset."  What- 
ever gloom  or  weariness  may  have  filled  the  toilful 
day,  there  is  always  a  gleam  of  brightness  for  its 
close.  It  is  like  the  cheery  smile  of  the  mother 
before  she  removes  the  light  and  leaves  the 
children  in  the  dark. 


136  Sights  and  Insights. 

Our  civilization  compels  us  to  be  resting  when 
God  is  creating  a  new  day — when  he  says,  morn- 
ing by  morning,  "  let  there  be  light."  Not  so 
with  the  Alp-climber.  All  these  gorgeous  decora- 
tions are  for  him.  He  is  interested  in  their  mean- 
ings. He  does  not  read  his  weather  "  probabili- 
ties "  in  a  line  of  black  ink.  They  are  written  in 
the  gorgeousness  of  sunrise.  His  signals  are  hung 
like  banners  from  the  mountains,  vast  trailing 
streamers  that  the  sun  flushes  with  crimson,  bathes 
with  pure  light,  or  leaves  dark  and  dun.  Then 
comes  a  breath  of  wind,  and  these  seas  of  feathery 
foam  go  swirling  over  mountain  summits,  whirling 
in  vast  spirals,  and  plunging  in  airy  cataracts.  He 
stands  between  two  worlds,  buried  in  neither,  and 
both  are  his. 

Hardly  anywhere  else  does  he  feel  so  much  with 
God.  These  mountains  are  too  large  to  spell  any 
other  name.  These  torrent  and  avalanche  voices 
are  too  loud  to  utter  any  other  word.  These  bil- 
lowy forests  seem  swept  with  flying  waves  of 
light  and  shade  by  no  other  hand.  And  these  vast 
ice  rivers,  moving  as  if  eternal  years  were  theirs, 
speak  of  no  one  but  the  Eternal.  Almighty  forces 
are  around  him  in  full  play.  He  sees  no  work  of 
man,  but  work  of  God,  vast,  grand,  and  irresist- 
ible, on   every  side.     He   sees  where  mountains 


Alp-Life.  137 

have  been  tossed  like  bubbles,  where  rocky  strata 
hundreds  of  feet  thick  have  been  folded  like  paper, 
where  the  strength  of  the  hills  has  been  broken 
and  valleys  dug  without  machinery.  He  might  be 
affrighted.  But  there  are  the  lilies  of  the  fields  in 
their  splendor,  and  the  unforgotten  sparrows  of 
the  air,  to  assure  him  that  God's  power  is  as 
minute  as  it  is  vast.  So  he  lies  down  in  God's 
hand,  or  leaps  or  shouts  with  a  consciousness  of 
being  filled  with  his  power. 

The  other  day  I  wanted  a  guide,  and  one  was 
sent  to  me. 

"  Do  you  know  the  way  over  such  a  pass  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  very  well." 

"  Show  me  your  book  ?  " 

Here  were  many  recommendations,  any  one 
good  enough ;  but  I  saw  the  name  of  a  friend.  The 
handwriting  was  as  familiar  as  if  it  had  arrived 
that  day  from  America.  He  said,  "  This  man  is  a 
good  guide.  He  knows  his  business,  and  does  it. 
You  may  trust  him."  I  did,  closed  the  book,  and 
said,  "  I  engage  you."  That  night  he  had  my  feet 
shod  with  iron  points,  and  before  daylight  I  was 
following  him  down  a  fearful  precipice.  He  went 
before,  showed  me  where  to  put  my  feet.  I  trusted 
him.  We  came  to  the  chasms  in  the  glaciers ;  they 
were  wide,  deep,  and  cold  as  graves.     I  looked  in 


138  Sights  and  Insights. 

his  earnest  face,  saw  his  grip  on  the  rope  around 
my  waist,  thought  he  could  draw  me  out  if  I  fell 
in,  remembered  the  sure  nails  he  had  put  in  my 
shoes,  and  leaped  to  him.  We  climbed  icy  slopes, 
where  the  guide  cut  every  step,  and  where  I  could 
only  put  my  feet  by  his  direction.  I  momentarily 
trusted  him,  and  he  brought  me  to  a  glorious 
height,  and  showed  me  visions  of  far  kingdoms  and 
scenes  of  entrancing  beauty.  At  the  close  of  the 
day  I' found  myself  in  sunny  Italy.  The  streams 
sang  sweetly,  the  flowers  scented  the  air,  luxuriant 
summer  laughed  on  every  side.  All  the  cold  snows, 
rocky  roads,  icy  graves,  and  hard  toils  were  far  be- 
hind.    I  had  trusted  my  guide,  and  not  in  vain. 

I  need  another  guide.  He  comes.  I  ask  if 
He  knows  all  the  way,  and  he  tells  me  he  has 
been  over  it  all,  knows  every  step.  He  gives 
me  his  book.  Here  are  thousands  of  recom- 
mendations, all  good;  bat  I  see  one  from  my 
own  mother,  who  tried  him  many  years.  She  says 
I  may  trust  him.  I  do ;  and  find,  my  feet  shod 
with  a  suitable  preparation.  We  go  along  fearful 
slopes,  across  slippery  places ;  I  feel  that  my  feet 
had  well-nigh  slipped ;  I  hear  him  say  of  others, 
their  foot  shall  slide  in  due  time  ;  but  he  holds  me 
up.  We  come  to  deep,  cold  graves,  but  he  has 
power  to  lift  me  over,  or  even  draw  me  out.     He 


Alp -Life.  139 

has  led  the  way  up  many  a  hill  of  difficulty, 
avoided  all  the  precipices,  and  brought  me  to  the 
mountains  of  vision.  When  I  come  to  the  dark 
valley  he  will  meet  me.  I  shall  recognize  his 
familiar  voice,  feel  his  strong  grasp,  feel  assured 
as  he  tells  me  he  knows  the  way,  has  been  through 
it  alone,  and  guided  millions  safely.  Then  we 
shall  come  into  the  beautiful  land,  and  find  friends 
waiting  where  the  waters  of  life  go  softly ;  and 
all  the  cold  snows,  rocky  roads,  icy  graves,  and 
hard  toils  will  be  far  behind. 

I  have  been  out  this  evening  to  look  at  half  a 
dozen  snow  peaks,  crimson  in  the  setting  sun,  piled 
like  clouds  above  the  horizon,  taking  on  various 
tints  as  easily  and  brightly  as  clouds ;  but  they  are 
nearly  fifty  miles  away.     Shall  I  ever  say, 

"Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I'm  with  you  once  again?" 


XVIII. 

VENERABLE  VENICE. 

'OUR  pleasure  in  visiting  nature  depends 
very  much  upon  the  mood  in  which  you  find 
her.  I  know  of  no  face  that  is  so  much  im- 
proved by  a  good  washing  as  hers.  There  are 
smiling  landscapes,  frowning  skies,  laughing 
brooks,  growling  winds,  and  angry  seas.  Your 
pleasure  is  greatly  modified  by  finding  an  Alp 
shooting  its  clean  white  wedge  up  into  an  unfathom- 
able blue  sky,  or  finding  fleets  of  cloud  wrecking 
themselves  on  the  rocks  just  above  you,  and  scatter- 
ing their  myriad  fragments  on  your  drenched  head. 
I  caught  Venice  in  her  best  mood.  I  noticed, 
as  I  came  out  into  the  Piazza  of  San  Marco,  that 
peculiar  light  that  betokens  a  gorgeous  sunset.  I 
instantly  raced  up  the  zigzag  inclines  of  the  Cam- 
panile, and  three  hundred  feet  above  Venice 
looked  out  on  Italy.  The  wind  was  blowing 
fearfully;  the  long  lines  of  white  breakers  marked 
every  contact  of  the  islands  with  the  Adriatic ; 
and  the  old  tower  very  perceptibly  trembled  and 
shook  in  the  wrestlings  of  the  blast.     A  thunder- 


Venerable  Venice.  141 

storm  was  sweeping  from  the  east  along  the  chain 
of  the  Alps  at  the  north.  The  dark  column  as- 
saulted peak  after  peak,  with  more  than  the  thun- 
derings  and  shoutings  of  war,  carried  height  after 
height,  changing,  step  by  step,  light,  beauty,  and 
glory  to  darkness'  and  desolation.  It  seemed  an 
advancing  army.  But  as  it  neared  the  sun  its 
darkness  was  scattered,  its  portentous  masses  were 
halted,  and  suffused  with .  the  glory  of  a  sunset. 
Peace  hung  its  gorgeous  banners  over  the  dark 
billows,  and  the  rainbow  gave  token  that  God  was 
in  the  storm. 

Then  the  five  great  bells  of  the  tower  began  to 
peal.  They  made  a  perfect  canopy  of  sound.  It 
seemed  like  a  real  brazen  sonance,  constantly 
shaken  down  and  constantly  renewed.  Then  all 
the  bells  of  the  city  answered,  sending  up  acres 
of  sound  to  meet  tons  from  above.  It  really 
seemed  as  broad  and  weighty  as  the  terms  imply. 
Thus  they  celebrated  the  sunset. 

The  inscription  on  the  great  bell  at  Schaff  hau- 
sen,  cast  before  America  was  discovered,  "  vivos 
vocOy  mortuos  filango,  fulgura  frango"*  embodied 
the  belief  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  and  in  Venice, 
with  the  wind  blowing  as  if  the  prince  of  the  power 

*  I  call  the  living,  I  mourn  the  dead,  I  break  the  light- 
ning. 


142  Sights  and  Insights. 

of  the  air  was  let  loose,  and  all  the  imps  of  dark- 
ness hurling  thunderbolts  so  near  the  city,  they 
rung  their  bells  as  if  they  believed  it  yet.  Suc- 
cess certainly  followed,,  if  it  did  not  result  from 
their  efforts. 

Soon  after,  the  band  commenced  to  play  down 
in  the  piazza,  and  I  waited  up  among  the  familiar 
stars  to  listen  to  the  delicious  music. 

Venice  Lotteries. 

Italian  gambling  by  lotteries  is  managed  by  the 
Government.  There  is,  therefore,  much  red  tape 
about  it ;  and  one  of  the  most  interesting  things  I 
know  of  is  a  fine  example  of  involved,  compli- 
cated, intertwined,  convoluted  red  tapeism.  The 
solar  system  is  simplicity  to  it :  and  the  reason  is, 
the  solar  system  was  made  for  revolution,  order, 
and  accomplishment.  The  other  system  was  made 
for  circumlocution,  order,  and  no  accomplish- 
ment. I  always  study  an  example  when  I  have 
time. 

The  passion  for  gambling  among  the  Italians 
is  ineradicable.  It  has  been  bred  in  the  bone  of 
many  generations.  Some  make  their  fortunes  by 
prophesying  what  will  be  lucky  numbers.  One 
would  think  the  shorter  way  would  be  to  buy  the 
lucky    numbers    themselves.     O    no !    they   had 


Venerable  Venice.  143 

rather  sell  the  fortunes  to  their  friends,  and  take  a 
few  francs  only  for  their  own  use.  But  the  friends 
are  sold,  not  the  fortunes.  Another  example  of 
generosity.  A  "man  buys  a  ticket  for,  say  twenty 
francs.  He  immediately  issues  one  hundred  shares 
in  the  prize  the  ticket  is  to  draw,  and  sells  them  at 
half  a  franc  each.  You  are  frequently  beset  by 
boys  having  these  shares  at  prices  as  low  as  two 
cents  a  share. 

I  was  present  at  the  drawing  to-day.  It  took 
place  in  the  great  square  of  San  Marco.  It  was  so 
arranged  that  every  one  could  see  that  there  was 
fair  play.  A  priest  used  to  preside,  and  pro- 
nounce his  blessing  upon  it,  in  the  good  old  time ; 
but  the  present  Government  has  deprived  them  of 
th^,  among  other  rights  which  descended  to  them 
from  St.  Peter. 

An  officer  shows  to  the  crowd  a  five  inch  square 
piece  of  paper,  having  number  one  printed  upon 
it.  He  then  sends  it  to  another  officer,  who  rolls 
it  up,  and  inserts  it  in  a  paper  cylinder  six  inches 
long,  having  rounded  ends.  It  is  then  passed  to 
another  officer,  received  on  a  silver  salver,  carried 
to  the  lottery  wheel,  and  by  another  superintend- 
ent of  fair  play  is  deposited  therein. 

This  monotonous  proceeding  goes  on  till  ninety- 
nine  numbers   are  thus  deposited  in  a  wire  net- 


144  Sights  and  Insights. 

work  barrel.  It  is  then  revolved,  ended  over,  and 
tumbled  about  on  its  axle,  till  all  are  thoroughly- 
mixed.  Then  a  boy  is  sent  up  by  the  crowd  to 
draw,  with  naked  arm,  a  single  cylinder,  which  is 
passed  round  in  reverse  order,  till  its  number  is 
shown  to  the  crowd  by  the  man  that  first  held  them 
up.  Then  comes  another  shaking  and  drawing.  I 
first  thought  it  unutterably  tedious ;  but  it  has  its 
advantages ;  it  gives  employment  to  the  ennuy'e 
officials ;  it  keeps  up  expectation  a  long  time  in 
the  crowd.  They  have  as  long  a  delight  as  a 
giraffe  is  supposed  to  have  in  a  gustatory  morsel. 
Every  body  takes  down  the  lucky  numbers,  some 
to  purchase  the  same,  alTd  some  to  avoid  them 
next  time.  It  has  not  yet  been  discovered  which 
is  the  more  lucky. 

Not  being  greatly  interested  in  the  process  of 
drawing,  or  the  numbers  drawn,  I  faced  the  crowd. 
That  interested  me.  There  were  hundreds  of 
men,  women,  and  boys :  women  that  had  no  bon- 
nets, never  had,  but  they  had  tickets ;  men  that 
had  very  few  clothes,  but  they  had  plenty  of  tick- 
ets and  rags;  boys  that  never  had  a  clean  face,  but 
they  had  tickets. 

I  could  not  discover  that  any  one  drew  any 
thing  that  day,  except  the  officials.  They  drew 
their  salaries.     As  the  crowd  began  to  disperse,  a 


Venerable   Venice.  145 

half-blind  beggar  asked  that,  for  the  sake  of  the 
blessed  Virgin,  I  would  give  him  some  bread. 
He  had  eaten  nothing  all  day.  I  called  his  at- 
tention to  his  half  a  pocket  full  of  tickets.  He 
did  not  seem  to  think  them  very  nutritious.  Nor 
did  I. 

I  shall  never  be  guilty  of  attempting  to  describe 
in  words  pictures  gorgeous  in  color,  nor  statues 
marvelous  in  form.  God  expresses  himself  in 
color  from  violets  to  sunsets,  and  in  forms  from 
the  infinitesimal  to  the  infinite,  but  not  in  poor, 
barren  words.  I  shall  always  see  in  my  picture 
gallery  Titian's  marvelous  "Assumption  of  Mary," 
and  Thorwaldsen's  Hercules  hurling  Lycias  from 
the  crags.  The  mad  old  giant  has  caught  his  vic- 
tim by  one  ankle  with  his  right  hand,  and  by  the 
hair  with  his  left,  has  slung  him,  head  downward, 
over  his  shoulder,  and  is  just  springing  forward  to 
add  force  to  his  arm.  The  fixed  face,  heaped-up 
muscle,  and  rushing  attitude  of  the  god,  compel 
you  to  wait  in  confident  expectation  of  seeing  that 
flaccid  form  flung  a  thousand  miles. 


■ 


XIX. 

MILAN    CATHEDRAL. 

[AKE  a  large-sized  church,  eighty-six  feet  by 
sixty  feet,  and  put  another  at  the  end  of 
it.  Add  another,  and  another,  and  then  two 
more.  Then  add  a  church  of  the  same  size  to  the 
side  of  the  first  one,  and  keep  doing  so  until  you 
have  five  in  breadth.  That  makes  ten  in  all. 
Add  eight  more,  to  complete  the  hollow  square. 
Then  put  a  dozen  into  the  center,  and  you  repre- 
sent the  area  of  the  Milan  Cathedral  by  thirty 
churches  each  eighty-six  by  sixty  feet. 

But  we  must  not  leave  it  looking  as  flat  as  a 
freight  shed :  lift  up  its  roof.  It  has  been  done 
till  few  steeples  in  our  country  would  be  tall 
enough  to  use  as  posts  for  a  scaffolding  inside. 
The  roof  is  of  marble,  only  marble,  and  marble 
continually.  It  is  supported  at  its  vast  height  by 
marble  columns.  Conceive  a  marble  trunk  eight 
feet  in  diameter,  rising  score  after  score  of  feet, 
and  this  clustered  round  witN  small  columns  eight 
inches  in  diameter ;  and  at  intervals  a  circle  of 
statues  encompassing  the  whole  structure,  till  at 


Milan  Cathedral.  147 

the  height  of  seventy-two  feet  the  enormous  tree 
puts  out  its  branches  from  among  statues  in  can- 
opied niches  of  exceeding  beauty,  and  spreads  far 
above,  an  umbrageous  roof.  Such  a  column  raised 
in  any  city  would  be  a  fitting  memorial  to  any  man, 
however  great,  or  any  event,  however  important. 
But  here  are  fifty-two  of  them  in,  as  mere  supports 
to  something  grander,  a  marble  grove  with  marble 
roof. 

That  is  just  it,  for  the  forest,  God's  first  temple, 
with  its  endless  variety  of  column,  arch,  and  orna- 
ment, is  the  type  of  gothic  architecture.  It 
sprung  out  of  man's  religious  feeling,  and  has  in- 
spiration and  aspiration  in  it.  The  Greek  did  not 
so  spring,  and  has  neither.  Two  perpendicular 
columns  with  a  horizontal  lintel  across  is  the  unit 
and  type  of  the  Greek.  Limitation  is  its  key- 
note; liberty  is  the  key-note  of  the  gothic.. 
Straight  lines  confine  the  Greek  in  ground  plan, 
rising  wall,  and  roof  if  it  has  any.  Every  con- 
ceivable variety  of  nook,  recess,  and  projection, 
marks  the  ground  plan  of  the  gothic.  Every  pos- 
sible shape  of  wall,  curve  of  arch,  roof  as  billowy 
as  the  forest  top,  and  perfect  prodigality  and  vari- 
ety of  ornament,  give  room  for  the  widest  scope 
of  genius  in  the  gothic. 

All  books  warn  you  not  to  form   too  great  ex- 


148  Sights  and  Insights. 

pectations  about  the  grandeur  of  St.  Peter's ;  they 
foretell  too  truly  your  first  disappointment.  They 
give  no  such  warning  about  our  gothic  cathedral 
at  Milan.  You  stand  amid  its  immense  pillars,  ex- 
amine its  forty  windows  gorgeous  as  the  rainbow, 
filled  with  paintings  of  nearly  every  event  in  Script- 
ure history,  you  look  at  its  seven  thousand  statues, 
and,  as  the  great  organ  makes  the  vast  interior 
pulse  and  throb  with  music,  you  exclaim,  "  Surely 
this  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God,  and  the 
gate  of  heaven." 

I  cannot  ask  you  to  look  at  the  peculiar  treasures 
of  the  church.  It  pretends  to  have  one  of  the 
holy  nails  used  in  the  crucifixion.  It  really  has 
colossal  silver  statues  of  San  Carlo  Borromeo  and 
St.  Ambrose.  It  has  chalices,  busts,  shrines,  can- 
dlesticks, and  an  endless  quantity  of  precious  ob- 
jects of  pure  silver,  gold,  and  precious  stones. 
To  such  an  extent  have  these  valuables  been  gath- 
ered, that  the  treasures  of  a  single  little  chapel  of 
a  few  feet  in  extent  have  an  intrinsic  value  of  eight 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  Neither  can  I  describe 
the  front,  decorated  with  twelve  spires,  two  hundred 
statues,  and  a  sculptured  representation  of  so  many 
scenes  of  sacred  history.  The  carving  of  birds,  in- 
sects, fruits,  leaves,  vines,  and  trees,  defies  descrip- 
tion.    Let  us  go  to  the  roof. 


Milan  Cathedral.  149 

You  put  five  hundred  stairs  under  your  feet,  and 
amazement  increases  at  every  step.  You  stand  in 
a  vast  area  of  dazzling  marble.  You  look  dizzily 
down  at  human  insects  creeping  about  in  the  pi- 
azza below.  A  man  is  a  very  small  thing  when 
seen  from  above,  as  the  angels  see  him.  It  must 
take  a  perfect  obedience  to  make  them  ministering 
spirits  to  him.  Around  you  are  the  historic  plains 
of  Lombardy.  Here  our  modern  ideas  of  civil 
liberty  had  birth.  Here  Barbarossa  sought  to 
strangle  them  in  their  cradle.  He  did  not  know 
that  liberty  could  so  inspire  the  heart  and  nerve 
the  arm  as  to  make  men  glad  to  die  in  her  defense. 
But  he  learned  his  lesson,  and  hurried  back  over 
the  Alps  into  his  own  Germany. 

Look  at  those  snowy  Alps  away  to  the  north. 
They  hardly  seem  to  belong  to  the  earth.  They 
are  up  in  the  heavens.  They  blush  crimson  with 
the  first  flush  of  sunlight,  then  stand  pure  white. 

But  let  us  come  back  to  the  eighth  wonder  of 
the  world.  Notice  seventy-six  marble  pictures 
cut  in  bas-relief  over  the  doors  that  lead  through 
the  flying  buttresses.  Every  one  is  so  well  done 
you  can  tell  at  once  what  it  represents.  See  the 
one  hundred  and  fifty-two  little  cherubs  in  every 
conceivable  posture,  constituting  the  brackets  that 
support  these  pictures  over  the  doors.     Wherever 

10 


150  Sights  and  Insights. 

you  turn  there  are  little  statues  perfect  enough  for 
any  mantel  in  the  most  elegant  parlor.  Delicate 
arabesques  are  hidden  away  in  corners,  where  only 
the  eye  of  the  patient  explorer  may  find  them  : 

Within  and  without  the  builders  wrought  with  care, 
For  God's  eye  seeth  every- where. 

Sculptured  battlements  rise  on  every  side.  Fly- 
ing buttresses,  with  beautifully  cut  open  work, 
pass  over  your  head.  Three  thousand  ornaments 
rise  from  the  upper  surface  of  these  buttresses  on 
one  side  of  the  building;  and  they  are  cut  into 
the  forms  of  fruit  and  flowers  with  such  incredi- 
ble prodigality  of  genius  that  no  two  of  them  are 
alike. 

A  hundred  and  thirty-six  lofty  spires  rise  from  the 
roof,  each  decorated  with  twenty-five  statues  set  in 
ornamented  niche,  and  under  decorated  canopy. 
The  eye  climbs  up  from  cusp  to  cusp,  till  it  reaches 
the  statue  that  is  loftily  perched  on  each  airy  pinna- 
cle. And,  standing  there  in  the  midst  of  thou- 
sands of  praying  and  praising  forms,  some  of 
angels  that  seem  to  have  just  alighted,  others  of 
martys  that  seem  just  leaving  their  tribulation  for 
triumph,  we  can  but  exclaim,  "  We  are  come  to 
Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God, 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  to  the  general  assembly 


Milan  Cathedral.  151 

and  Church  of  the  first-born,  which  are  written 
in  heaven,  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels." 

How  I  would  like  to  take  down  the  form  of 
Mary,  that  surmounts  the  highest  spire,  and  lift 
up  there  the  form  of  Christ.  Then  these  descend- 
ing angels  and  ascending  men  would  all  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  truth,  and  every  eye  turned  up  from 
these  wide  miles  of  Lombardic  plains  would  see 
the  real  object  of  worship. 

This  cathedral  is  not  finished  yet.  Many  pieces 
of  work  have  been  added  since  I  saw  it  four  years 
ago.  Many  more  will  be  added  before  I  see  it 
again.  This  cathedral  is  so  exquisite,  airy,  white, 
pure,  aspiring,  so  suggestive  of  the  grandest  in 
nature,  of  the  holiest  in  life,  my  heart  returns  to 
it,  notwithstanding  what  I  said  about  the  cathedral 
at  Cologne,  according  to  the  German  proverb : 

Die  erste  liebe 
1st  die  beste. 


XX. 

HUNG  YESTERDAY— CROWNED   TO-DAY. 

Savonarola. 

"X^m^THEN  Sidney  Smith  was  asked  what  should 
^vjr  be  done  with  a  certain  bad  man,  who  un- 
deniably had  some  great  excellences,  he 
said,  "  Hang  him  first,  and  erect  him  a  statue  after- 
ward." It  has  always  been  thus  with  our  blind 
world.  And  it  is  not  particular  about  applying 
this  favorite  mode  of  dealing  to  obvious  compounds 
of  good  and  evil.  It  stones  its  prophets,  and  then 
builds  their  tombs ;  it  slays  its  Christ,  and  then 
exhausts  human  ability  in  portraying  his  features 
and  glorifying  his  name. 

Italy  has  been  especially  given  to  this  martyr- 
ing and  apotheosizing  business.  Not  to  go  far, 
Florence  here  banished  Dante,  in  1302  ;  kept  him 
away  from  home  till  his  heart  broke,  nineteen  years 
after ;  and  six  hundred  years  went  by  before  they 
so  repented  of  their  father's  deed  as  to  bring  forth 
works  meet  for  repentance ;  but  when  the  six 
hundreth  anniversary  of  his  birth  arrived,  there 
wasunvailed  before  their  Westminster  Abbey  the 


Hung  Yesterday — Crowned  To-day.      153 

Santa  Croce,  a  monument  which  all  Italy  united 
to  build,  and  of  which  all  Italy  may  well  be  proud. 
I  went  about  to-day  among  the  three  hundred  and 
forty-two  banners  that  provinces,  cities,  universi- 
ties, academies,  and  societies  sent  up,  from  every 
part  of  Italy,  to  aid  in  adding  honor  to  his  name. 
I  lifted  their  heavy  silken  folds,  their  rich  velvets, 
their  gorgeous  painting,  their  golden  embroidery, 
with  reverent  care ;  for  they  were  all  telling  me, 
that  whatever  wrong  man  may  suffer  for  a  time, 
all  the  race  will  combine,  if  need  be,  to  set  him 
right. 

It  has  been  especially  the  case  with  Savonarola. 
Hanged,  burned,  and  his  ashes  flung  into  the  Arno, 
the  first  moment  of  reviving  liberty  hastens  to  do 
honor  to  his  memory.  It-  is  most  significant  that 
there  is  no  name  chosen  from  a  long  roll  in  a 
glorious  past,  that  Florentines  are  now  seeking  to 
honor  as  Savonarola's.  We  remember  him  as  a 
Protestant,  protesting  with  fiery  eloquence  against 
an  infallible  pope ;  as  a  deep  religious  nature,  de- 
nouncing all  empty  forms,  and  insisting  on  vital 
godliness ;  refusing  to  absolve  a  king  unless  he 
first  made  complete  restitution;  we  remember 
him  as  a  practical  republican,  calling  men  back 
from  indolent  luxury  to  rigid  self-control ;  and  it 
is  interesting  to  see  that  it  is  in  these  vital  char- 


154  Sights  and  Insights. 

acteristics  that  the  Florentines  choose  to  remem- 
ber him  to-day.  Out  in  the  new  quarter  of  their 
growing  city,  they  have  given  to  one  of  their  most 
beautiful  squares,  not  the  name  of  some  king  they 
would  flatter,  nor  some  minister  they  would  please, 
but  the  name  of  Savonarola.  It  is  most  fitting  that 
he  who  ruled  this  city  by  calling  a  council  of  the 
worthiest,  who  made  an  orderly  republic  out  of 
anarchy  by  his  individual  power,  should  have  some 
civic  recognition,  as  well  as  religious  remembrance. 
Besides,  on  the  monument  placed  in  his  cell,  in 
this  1873,  they  have  not  depicted  his  devotion,  his 
teaching  the  brotherhood,  or  swaying  the  crowd ; 
but  have  shown  him  before  the  Council  of  the  Re- 
public, swaying  all  hearts  and  minds  to  liberty  and 
life.  Yet  his  religious  power  and  influence  have 
been  by  no  means  overlooked.  A  great  poster  met 
me  in  the  street,  a  few  days  since,  announcing  a 
grand  concert,  total  proceeds  to  be  devoted  to  the 
erection  of  a  monument  to  Savonarola.  I  wanted 
to  help  build  such  a  memorial,  and  went.  The 
largest  orchestra  in  the  city,  twenty-four  piano- 
players,  the  best  cantatrice  the  city  could  boast, 
and  thousands  of  the  citizens  of  Florence,  were 
there  to  aid  in  the  work. 

I    soon    after   found    my  way   to    Piazza   San 
Marco,  now  so  quiet,  once  so  swarming  with  the 


Hung  Yesterday — Crowned  To-day.      155 

men  who  thirsted  for  blood.  I  found  the  whole 
monastery  where  Savonarola  once  lived  set  apart 
as  a  sacred  place,  with  custodians  appointed,  and 
the  relics  of  Florence's  greatest  man  were  visited 
with  reverence.  I  soon  found  my  way  to  the  studio 
of  Professor  Pazzi,  and  there  stood  before  me,  in 
colossal  majesty,  the  figure  of  the  man  Florence 
now  delights  to  honor. 

I  have  seen  hundreds  of  statues — Moses,  David, 
Jupiter,  Minerva,  the  dying  gladiator,  Caesar, 
and  Pompey,  at  whose  feet  great  Caesar  fell ; 
but  I  never  saw  one  that  stirred  me  so  deeply. 
The  dress  is  astonishingly  simple ;  there  is  none 
of  the  infinite  work  that  gives  marble  laces  and 
jewels;  there  is  nothing  affecting  in  posture;  all 
the  power  is  in  the  face,  there  the  soul  shines 
forth ;  the  divine  fire  breaks  out ;  you  never 
think  of  marble;  you  are  before  a  man,  and 
one  full  of  God.  He  holds  aloft,  in  his  right 
hand,  the  form  of  the  Crucified  One,  and  is  in 
the  act  of  saying,  "  Florentines !  this  is  the 
King  of  the  Universe  !  will  you  have  him  to 
be  your  King  ? "  You  could  prophesy  the  an- 
swer, if  he  had  spoken  it  to  a  horde  of  barba- 
rians. And  they  answered  with  one  voice,  and 
much  ardor,  ■'  Yes !  yes !  "  And  Christ  was 
king    of    Florence,    as    never    before    or    since. 


156  Sights  mid  Insights. 

It  thrills  me  like  the  hills  of  Galilee  to  walk  about 
and  put  my  hand  on  things  familiar  to  him  ;  to 
peer  over  the  writing  that  his  hand  traced,  and 
think  that  so  much  of  God  could  come  to  a  single 
human  being,  to  sway  and  mold  a  whole  teeming 
city.  I  fill  up  the  empty  acres  of  the  vast  cathedral 
with  an  immovably  packed  multitude;  I  go  up 
to  Ferrara,  and  bring  down  the  man  of  power,  and 
remember  his  words  that  burnt  themselves  into 
me  years  ago,  so  that  now,  away  from  all  books 
and  aids  to  recollection,  and  all  need  of  them,  I 
go  over  the  history  of  those  pregnant  years  as  if  it 
were  the  only  reality  of  to-day.  Those  old  cells 
were  not  empty  to-day,  though  no  monk  has  walked 
them  for  years ;  those  holy  faces,  full  of  power 
from  the  divine  Angelico's  fingers,  were  not  old ; 
Savonarola's  cell  was  not  a  curiosity-shop ;  it  was 
a  closet  for  devotion — one  of  the  gardens  of  Geth- 
semane  for  men  previous  to  their  Calvaries.  That 
pulpit  by  the  pillar  is  higher  than  Olympus ;  but 
all  its  thunder-bolts  are  warmed  and  winged  with 
love  ;  and  that  Pizza  Signoria  is  no  place  of  martyr- 
dom, but  of  apotheosis— a  lifting  up  to  rule  com- 
ing centuries  as  he  could  not  his  own.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  the  people  said  that  the  angels 
sprinkled  flowers  and  songs  upon  the  spot  made 
dear  by  sending  such  a  man  to  them. 


Hung  Yesterday — Crowned  To-day.     157 

But  am  I  forgetting  the  statue  ?  No ;  I  never 
can!  It  stands  before  me  yet.  It  has  the  seer's 
eyes  ;  they  are  the  eyes  of  one  who  has  looked  on 
God,  and  not  been  blasted  by  the  sight;  they  have 
been  opened  preternaturally,  so  that  they  can 
never  close  ;  always  thereafter  they  look  through 
matter,  and  rest  on  the  real.  It  is  a  pleasure  to 
know  that  they  are  real  features,  not  the  fancy  of  a 
sculptor.  I  had  been  up  to  the  Uffizi,  to  find  his 
likeness  cut  in  a  gem  during  his  life  ;  I  had  been 
here  and  there  to  find  a  portrait  or  two  ;  and  when 
I  came  before  the  statue,  it  was  my  old  friend, 
and  not  the  form  of  a  stranger.  The  cold  stone 
was  transfigured  with  an  inner  light  that  made  it 
human. 

I  see  every  day  what  would  have  been  impossi- 
ble ten  years  ago.  Italy  is  on  the  march  of  prog- 
ress at  the  double  quick.  It  gives  me  joy  that 
in  going  back  to  find  the  men  who  inspire  their 
highest  enthusiasm,  we  find  them  to  be  full  of 
godliness  and  power  divine.  Their  Lorenzo  the 
Magnificent,  with  all  his  wealth,  could  get  no  such 
monument ;  and  if  he  could,  is  forever  debarred 
from  such  memory.  But  to-day  the  people,  with 
true  instinct,  honor  the  men  who  have  been  true  to 
them.  They  thus  honor  their  favorites  ;  but  they 
more  mold  and  shape  the  character  of  their  own 


158  Sights  and  Insights. 

future.  The  recoil  of  wickedness  thought  .to  anni- 
hilate Savonarola ;  they  burned  his  body,  and 
strewed  his  ashes  toward  the  sea ;  they  did  not 
know  that  the  real  power  was  yet  unseen ;  and 
when  they  covered  the  spot  where  he  suffered 
with  an  enormous  fountain,  men  persisted  in  calling 
it  a  monument  to  him.  And  now  that  four  hun- 
dred years  are  gone,  the  unseen  and  undying  rises 
to  assert  its  power,  and  rules  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

I  turned  with  equal  delight  to  seek  the  traces  of 
another  king — one  who  turned  him  to  the  works 
of  God.  Years  ago  there  was  a  Luther  of  science 
here  in  Florence.  He  lacked  Luther's  heroism  to 
face  devils ;  but  then  he  had  not  Luther's  inspira- 
tion. No  man  can  die  for  a  truth  of  the  intellect. 
It  takes  one  of  the  heart  to  make  martyrs.  Let 
us  not  blame  Galileo  too  severely,  for  we  do  not 
know  how  the  rack  feels. 

They  have  put  his  monument  in  St.  Croce,  their 
Westminster  Abbey.  He  stands  looking  up.  A 
little  globe  is  under  his  hand,  just  the  right  size 
for  the  world,  and  the  great  man  is  scanning 
a  broader  universe.  The  house  where  he  lived, 
the  tower  where  he  made  his  observations,  and 
the  very  spy-glass  he  made,  but  not  the  rack  with 
which  they  tortured  him,  are  sacredly  kept  in 
Florence.     I  went  on  a  pilgrimage.     The  prospect 


Hung  Yesterday — Crowned  To-day.     159 

is  the  same  to-day  from  Torre  del  Gallo  as  when 
he  looked  upon  it.  On  every  side  are  the  stiff- 
ened billows  of  the  sea  turned  to  green  hills  of 
earth.  Below  is  the  beautiful  city,  the  huge  Du- 
omo,  the  charming  Campanile,  and  the  winding 
Arno.  Far  away  are  the  snowy  Apennines,  white 
as  the  heavens  they  pierce.  And  the  prospect  is 
the  same  to-night.  Wider  than  the  earth  is  the 
canopy  of  heaven.  There  go  the  stars,  and  they 
speak  and  sing  across  the  wide  spaces.  Night 
unto  night  showeth  knowledge.  They  have  a  wis- 
dom so  important  that  in  comparison  there  is  no 
voice  nor  language  where  theirs  is  not  heard.  I  do 
not  wonder  that  he  who  had  an  ear  to  hear  climbed 
up  above  the  quieted  city,  and  the  hushed  earth, 
and  turned  his  ear  to  the  skies.  He  invented  in- 
struments to  aid  his  senses,  and  learned  to  read 
the  hitherto  unspelled  hieroglyphs  of  the  stars.  I 
went  to  see  his  first  spy-glass  with  a  kind  of  rev- 
erence that  I  never  felt  for  the  preserved  reliques 
of  those  who  were  only  kings  of  men,  and  not  of 
minds.  It  has  an  inch  aperture,  is  about  two  feet 
long,  and  is  cased  in  wood. 

So  small,  and  short,  and  meanly  made  ! 
Yet  showed  it  first  to  human  eye 
Fair  Venus,  curved  like  Cupid's  bow, 
And  Lunar's  mountains  lifted  high. 


1 60  Sights  and  Insights. 

It  prophesied  of  Saturn's  rings, 
And  showed  the  diamond  points  of  light 
In  Jove's  crown,  which  he  uplifts 
And  makes  like  dawning  day  his  night. 
It  changed  the  sun  from  Phoebus'  face 
Into  a  world  beyond  all  thought, 
Itself  all  storms,  but  by  it  peace 
And  life  to  other  worlds  are  brought ; 

And  was  its  maker  "  blinded  by 
Excess  of  light,"  or  was  he  blind, 
That  he  might  therefore  pause  and  leave 
Somewhat  for  other  men  to  find  ? 

How  like,  and  yet  how  unlike  faith, 
So  seeming  weak,  so  full  of  might, 
It  gems  an  empty  heaven  with  stars 
Till  there  can  be  no  utter  night ; 
Then  learns  to  read  the  star- writ  page, 
That  blazons  all  the  radiant  dome  ; 
The  scattered  stars  in  ordered  lines 
Read  clear,  "  my  Father,  heaven,  and  home.' 

Now  turn  thy  gaze  upon  the  Son. 
Uncomely  formlessness  is  grace  ! 
And  whom  we  thought  a  dying  man 
Is  God,  forever,  to  our  race. 

Can  men  see  God,  and  see  again  ? 
Faith  clears  the  sight ;  blasts  sightless  never ; 
And  shows  a  universe  so  grand 
That  all  may  find  therein  forever. 


XXI. 

AMUSEMENTS  OF  ROYALTY. 

f  THINK  the  fact  that  kings  must  amuse  them- 
selves gets  impressed  about  as  deeply  on  an 
observer  of  their  doings  as  any  other  one  fact 
of  their  existence.  They  rule,  or  are  said  to  ;  but 
that  they  amuse  themselves  is  perfectly  evident. 
Even  Peter  the  Great  must  have  his  lapdogs 
about.  And  they  show,  as  something  too  sacred 
to  be  removed,  the  grease  spots  on  the  satin-dam- 
ask upholstery  where  he  fed  them.  Nero  amused 
himself  with  burning  Christians  by  the  thousand, 
and  Caligula  by  frightening  his  ministers. 

They  have  a  more  harmless  way  now.  It  runs 
greatly  to  collecting  odd  and  beautiful  things. 
Man  has  a  great  taste  for  the  beautiful.  As  soon 
as  he  is  released  from  daily  toil  to  obtain  his  bread, 
he  begins  to  embody  his  conceptions  of  beauty. 
The  South  Sea  Islander  carves  with  infinite  pains 
his  paddle  or  hatchet-handle.  And  as  soon  as  one 
has  more  money  than  he  needs  for  bread,  he  be- 
gins to  buy  beautiful  things.  Kings  have  both 
leisure  and  money.     And  as  men  have  not  time 


1 62  Sights  and  Insights. 

to  produce  what  they  want,  they  create  a  life -long 
leisure  for  them.  That  is,  they  employ  whole 
classes  of  adapted  men  to  embody  beauty. 

One  of  the  most  striking  results  of  this  artificial- 
ly procured  leisure  is  the  production  of  mosaics. 
There  are  various  kinds,  such  as  pavements  of 
stones,  inlaid  in  pattern,  or  pictures,  or  words. 
There  are  tables  of  a  single  slab,  with  a  section 
inlaid  with  other  stones  ;  and  there  are  pictures 
made  of  arranged  bits  of  colored  glass,  so  beauti- 
fully done  that  they  surpass  the  nicest  coloring 
with  the  brush. 

I  have  been  to  see  the  table  manufactory  of  the 
Imperial  Government  at  Florence.  In  the  outer 
courts  are  arranged  the  raw  materials — all  sorts  of 
precious  and  common  stones,  both  in  a  natural 
and  polished  condition.  Afterward  you  come 
to  small  specimens  of  inlaid  work ;  paper  weights, 
with  a  few  arranged  stones  sunk  in  the  surface ; 
then  to  framed  pictures,  and  tables,  an  indescrib- 
able variety  and  richness.  One  object  is  to  secure 
permanence  for  such  treasures  of  art.  And  as 
God's  colors  in  stone  are  far  more  brilliant  and 
durable  than  when  man  has  ground  them  up  and 
mixed  them  over,  they  take  the  real  color  and 
durable  stone  and  work  it  into  designs.  Of  course 
it  takes  time  without  limit,  and  skill  beyond  meas- 


Amusements  of  Royalty.  163 

ure.  The  pieces  of  stone  must  be  matched  to  far 
less  than  a  hair's  breadth.  The  desired  color 
must  be  found,  others  cut  away,  and  the  whole 
surface  be  perfectly  smooth  when  finished.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  twenty  men  toil  twenty  years  at 
one  work.     And  their  success  is  perfect. 

You  see  a  table  before  you.  Lying  in  the  mid- 
dle is  a  heap  of  sea-shells,  a  cluster  of  fruit,  a 
musical  instrument.  But  examination  shows  it  to 
be  all  level  stone.  They  do  not  hesitate  to  en- 
counter the  difficulties  of  perspective.  They  will 
throw  down  a  wavy  gossamer  of  ribbon,  that  it 
seems  you  might  blow  away,  just  as  perfectly  as 
they  build  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  They  give 
flowers  with  a  little  pearl  sunk  in  a  petal  for  a 
dew-drop,  and  birds  of  paradise  flitting  in  the 
vines  more  perfectly  than  can  be  done  by  paint. 
These  things  are  wonderful,  indescribable.  I 
wished  to  bring  home  a  few  tables  for  the  Arch- 
street  parsonage.  I  found  I  could  take  a  table 
top  of  three  feet  diameter,  with  six  shells  and  a 
sprig  of  coral,  by  leaving  three  thousand  five  hun- 
dred dollars  in  gold ;  one  somewhat  larger,  with 
birds  and  arabesque,  for  twenty-three  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars ;  one  ten  feet  in  diameter, 
entirely  mosaic  and  mounted,  by  leaving  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars.     I  left  the  tables. 


164  Sights  and  Insights. 

Mosaic  pictures  in  glass  are,  if  possible,  more 
wonderful.  There  are  about  ten  thousand  shades 
of  glass,  more  or  less,  according  to  the  nicety  of 
the  eye  that  counts — decidedly  less,  in  my  case. 
These  are  arranged  in  bits  from  an  eighth  to  a 
half  inch  square,  so  as  to  present  an  even  surface 
and  perfect  gradation  of  most  brilliant  color. 
Some  churches,  like  St.  Mark's  at  Venice,  are  en- 
tirely lined,  roof  and  wall,  with  these  pictures ; 
others,  like  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  have  only  the 
dome  so  finished,  and  a  few  elaborate  copies  of 
great  masters  on  the  walls.  I  saw  a  copy  of 
Guido's  Aurora  so  nicely  wrought  in  glass  that  it 
took  the  closest  inspection  to  detect  the  junctures. 
I  had  to  decide  a  dispute  with  a  stranger  by  point- 
ing to  the  word  *"  mosaic  "  on  its  label.  It  was 
cheap  at  fifteen  thousand  dollars.  Size,  six  feet 
by  two  and  a  half. 

The  Pope  is  so  royal  in  his  tastes  and  treas- 
ures that  he  keeps  a  mosaic  factory  in  the  Vatican. 
In  addition  to  pictures  for  St.  Peter's,  he  also 
makes  tables  for  presents  to  those  he  would  bind 
to  his  interest.  He  gave  one  to  the  Czarina  of 
Russia  yesterday.  But  he  did  not  give  me  one 
when  visiting  the  Vatican.  He  evidently  believes 
in  "  placing  his  bonds  where  they  will  do  the  most 
good."     Send  on  your  Peter's  pence. 


Amusements  of  Royalty.  165 

These  are  not  the  only  niceties  kings  cause  to  be 
produced.  There  is  a  world  of  delicate  microsco- 
pic engraving  and  ivory  carving.  I  have  seen  a 
wooden  beer-mug,  ten  inches  high,  called  the 
Kaiser  Pokal,  carved  from  a  single  piece  of  box- 
wood. It  is  for  sale  at  three  thousand  dollars, 
gold.  All  I  can  say  is,  it  is  worth  it — to  make  it ; 
and  worth  it  to  keep,  if  one  buys  such  things. 

I  found  in  Dresden  an  egg  full  of  meat.  Within 
the  white  was  a  chicken ;  in  the  chicken  a  crown ; 
in  the  crown  a  ring.  It  was  a  mechanical  way  of 
popping  the  question.  It  said  to  the  young  lady 
receiving  it,  There  is  a  wedding  and  a  kingdom  for 
you ;  but  you  can  only  find  them  in  the  chicken- 
hearted  prince,  who  has  not  yet  chipped  his  shell, 
that  is,  come  to  his  majority.     I  hope  she  sent  him 

a  duck. 

11 


xsn. 

EDUCATION  BY  TRAVEL. 

"Xw/"^^^  one  *s  a^roa(^  ne  does  not  so  much 
^V^)t  travel  as  go  to  school.  He  carries  "  his 
shining  morning  face,"  but  does  not 
"creep  like  a  snail."  When  you  see  him  trying  to 
master  the  difficulties  of  two  foreign  languages  in 
one  day,  scraping  his  throat,  and  balking  at  eight 
difficult  consonants  together,  with  only  one  vowel 
to  help  them,  in  the  morning ;  at  noon,  casting  all 
his  roughness  behind  him,  imitating  accents  of 
"  sunny  Italy,"  taking  women  talking  to  children 
as  helps  to  make  his  liquids  and  vowels  soft 
enough,  repeating  every  word  he  hears  in  his 
eagerness  to  learn,  you  conclude  that  he  is  simply 
a  student  of  languages. 

You  look  at  his  library  of  guide  books,  where  the 
most  minute  directions  are  mingled  with  history, 
biography,  and  poetry ;  at  his  most  perfect  maps, 
and  you  cannot  guess  whether  he  is  an  historian,  or 
poet,  or  an  officer,  incog.,  making  a  reconnoissance 
of  the  country  preparatory  to  an  invasion. 


Education  by  Travel.  167 

Then  he  drops  all  these,  leans  his  body  half  out 
of  the  window,  to  the  great  danger  of  the  telegraph 
poles,  trying  to  see  why  he  hugs  thorough  hillside, 
turning  to  every  point  of  the  compass  in  ten  min- 
utes, leaping  ravines  one  hundred  feet  deep,  dash- 
ing through  four  tunnels  with  not  the  length  of  the 
train  between  them,  in  one  of  which  the  train 
turns  right  about,  coming  out  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, when  the  smooth  valley  below  invites  to  an 
even  road  and  the  large  cities  to  an  abundant 
traffic,  and  you  think  he  is  a  civil  engineer.  He 
sees  an  Apennine  ahead  that  must  be  crossed,  and 
the  road  teaches  him  that  youth  must  prepare  for 
surmounting  the  difficulties  of  manhood,  and  un- 
less small  hills  of  difficulty  are  put  under  foot  in 
early  life,  there  will  be  no  flying  over  mountains 
in  maturer  years. 

He  studies  drainage  here  and  irrigation  there, 
plucks  the  sage  green  of  the  olive,  and  the  amber 
green  of  the  new  wheat,  till  you  are  sure  he  never 
was  any  thing  but  a  farmer.  Then  he  looks  so  lov- 
ingly on  the  sunny  hills  where  Petrarch  wrote  and 
Ariosto  sung,  that  you  feel  sure  he  is  a  poet.  Then 
he  watches  the  women  in  the  fields,  swinging  pick 
and  sledge  on  the  railroad  embankments,  as  if  he 
were  only  studying  the  woman  question.  He 
rushes  through  a  whole  town  straight  for  a  single 


1 68  Sights  and  Insights. 

picture  or  building,  as  if  only  an  artist,  and  leaps 
out  to  dip  his  hands  in  the  Sanguinetto  at  Thrasa- 
meno,  as  if  his  own  ancestors  had  been  with  Hanni- 
bal when  he  made  that  stream  carry  more  blood 
than  water,  on  the  victorious  day  when  he  de- 
stroyed the  Roman  army  under  Flaminius. 

What  a  start  it  gave  me  just  now  to  hear  the 
guard  call  out,  "  Thrasameno  Signori."  Memory 
yielded  up  its  long,  buried  treasures  wrung  from 
Livy,  by  midnight  toil  (!),  so  many  years  ago.  I 
saw  right  around  me  the  vast  amphitheater  of  hills 
on  which  Hannibal  had  ambushed  his  soldiers ; 
just  before  me  was  the  narrow  outlet  toward 
Rome,  stopped  by  the  wily  Carthagenian  ;  behind 
me  the  narrow  road  of  ingress  between  the  hills 
and  the  lake.  Into  this  trap  came  the  Roman 
consul.  Then  all  Carthage  burst  out  upon  him 
with  concentered  spears.  Caught  in  flank,  cut  off 
from  retreat,  advance,  or  flight,  they  could  only 
rush  into  the  lake,  or  die  by  the  weapons  of  their 
foes.  In  the  terrible  confusion  an  earthquake 
reeled  unheeded  by.  Hereafter  another  of  those 
almost  airy  nothings  we  read  of  will  be  reality, 
because  it  has  a  local  habitation.  Thus  history 
becomes  vivid  and  real,  and  geography  is  no  longer 
a  mass  of  names,  a  maze  of  lines,  and  maps  are 
no  more    a   fool's  coat  of  colors.     One  sees  why 


Education  by  Travel.  169 

battles  were  fought  here,  there,  and  not  elsewhere. 
Mountains  teach  him  their  place  and  height  by 
the  weariness  of  the  climbing,  by  the  snow  he 
walks  on  in  mid-summer,  by  the  sublimity  of  pre- 
cipitous wall,  and  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  land- 
scapes, so  charming  that  memory  keeps  them  all. 
He  expects  no  brighter,  till  the  revelations  of  the 
world  to  come. 

All  his  knowledge  of  the  old  world  has  been  a 
sort  of  chaos,  without  order  and  relation.  But 
being  here,  one  center  of  relation  after  another 
is  established.  Separate  facts  fly  to  their  appro- 
priate affinities,  great  lights  take  their  places, 
lesser  ones  revolve  about  them,  and  a  universe 
is  seemingly  created,  full  of  beauty  and  order, 
where  only  chaos  reigned  before. 

Seeking  the  head-waters  of  the  Nile,  the  trav- 
eler finds  vast  lakes,  sublime  mountains,  gorgeous 
tropical  scenery,  and  the  river  itself  larger  than  at 
its  mouth.  So  in  seeking  the  sources  of  our  mod- 
ern civilization,  of  our  art,  and  even  of  liberty, 
the  traveler  makes  similar  discoveries.  There  are 
mountains  of  visions ;  there  are  lands  of  Beulah, 
and  deserts  of  Sahara.  One  day  he  stands  by  the 
fountain  heads  of  influence.  He  sees  the  outgoing 
streams  widening  through  continents  that  flush 
with  verdure  wherever  the  healing  waters  come. 


170  Sights  and  Insights. 

The  next  day  he  stands  by  the  crater  of  an  ex- 
tinct political  volcano,  where  time's  repair  of  grass 
and  flowers  has  partially  obliterated  the  works  of 
violence,  and  he  sees  that  the  fiery  flood  has 
flowed  afar  into  other  nations  and  kingdoms,  car- 
rying its  desolation  and  death.  Moral  pestilences 
gendered  in  loathsome  crime  have  their  tracks  as 
well  as  physical  ones. 

What  a  sublime  thing  it  is  to  feel  oneself  in  the 
headquarters  of  nations,  and  not  merely  for  to-day, 
but  for  all  past  days.  Alexanders,  Caesars,  Napo- 
leons move  in  his  view,  fight  over  their  battles  at 
his  call.  He  opens  his  vision  to  influences  too 
subtile  for  sight,  influences  that  are  mightier  than 
armies.  He  sees  where  ideas  break  open  Bastiles, 
where  the  sighs  of  the  oppressed  combine  into 
whirlwinds  that  overturn  thrones,  where  spiritual 
influences  lift  nations  as  gravitation  lifts  the  sea ; 
he  sees  their  unsuspected  power  along  the  ages, 
changing  a  mighty  king  into  a  puppet,  and  making 
an  unknown  peasant  king  of  souls.  He  begins  to 
feel  that  he  has  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  way  in 
which  Omniscience  sees  the  world.  In  it  all  he  is 
only  going  to  school,  changing  his  studies  frequent- 
ly, and  getting  his  teaching  by  the  object  method. 

What  a  royal  progress  it  is  !  Heralds  have  been 
before,  and  trodden  down  the  hills,  filled  up  the 


Education  by  Travel.  171 

valleys,  and  prepared  a  highway  on  which  I  can 
drive  my  chariot  wheels  from  thirty  to  sixty  miles 
an  hour.  Yesterday  morning  I  had  the  Alps  be- 
neath my  feet,  this  morning  the  Apennines,  and  I 
hope  Vesuvius  to-morrow.  Yesterday  I  shivered 
in  three  woolen  shirts,  overcoat,  and  rug,  among 
snows  that  never  melt.  To-day  I  have  been  where 
flowers  were  up  to  my  knees,  and  violets  up  to  my 
nose,  though  I  have  not  yet  lost  sight  of  snow  on 
the  mountains.  Wherever  I  wish*  to  stop  men 
have  erected  magnificent  apartments,  provided 
every  comfort,  and  they  swarm  out  at  my  ap- 
proach to  give  triumphal  entry.  Artists  and 
architects  have  labored  for  centuries  to  rear  mag- 
nificent piles  and  decorate  them  in  the  most  gor- 
geous manner  for  my  coming.  And  it  is  all  mine. 
It  detracts  nothing  that  others  can  look  at  and 
enjoy  these  things  also.  It  adds  to  the  interest. 
How  rich  I  am ! 

I  have  hung  over  the  landscape  in  a  state  of 
intoxication,  (not  inebriation ;)  have  been  march- 
ing the  armies  of  ten  centuries  up  and  down  the 
valleys  ;  have  brought  back  Virgil,  and  other  clas- 
sical writers,  to  their  old  place  of  resort ;  admired 
the  amazing  triumphs  of  modern  and  ancient  en- 
gineering skill ;  have  sung  and  shouted  old  Meth- 
odist hymns  in  a  blessed  state  of  content. 


172  Sights  and  Insights. 

I  have  just  dashed  through  a  few  miles  at  the 
head  of  the  Nera  worthy  of  special  mention.  The 
road  •  was  cut  straight  through  a  wild,  tortuous 
ravine.  The  result  was  that  the  river  crossed  the 
road  thirty  times  in  so  short  a  distance  that  the 
train  was  frequently  on  three  bridges  at  once. 
Add  the  tunnels,  abutments,  lofty  precipices,  and 
it  makes  a  scene  that  causes  one  to  hang  more 
than  half  way  out  of  the  window.  Amazing  feats 
of  engineering  may  be  expected  when  the  Govern- 
ment furnishes  the  money,  and  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence whether  a  road  pays  dividends  or  not. 

Beautiful  Italy !  No  wonder  men  have  loved 
thee  1  The  soil  is  so  rich  that  it  bears  three  sepa- 
rate crops  at  once,  even  yet.  For  example,  there 
is  the  grass,  grain,  or  roots,  of  the  surface,  the  ber- 
ries or  small  fruits  that  cover  the  trees,  and  the 
grapes  that  are  trained  between.  It  is  a  wonder 
that  the  whole  land  is  not  rich.  But  you  do  not 
see  a  new  house  in  a  whole  day's  ride ;  many 
are  evidently  going  to  ruin ;  but  no  new  ones  rise 
to  take  their  place,  nor  are  any  repairs  made  to 
render  them  more  comfortable.  Whole  towns  ap- 
pear to  be  without  a  pane  of  glass,  and  the  inhab- 
itants without  a  change  of  garments ;  indeed, 
without  one  whole  suit.  Not  only  are  they  so 
poverty-stricken  in    purse,  but,  until  lately,  they 


Education  by  Travel.  173 

have  been  equally  so  in  mind.  There  was  even 
lacking  a  sufficient  national  feeling  to  prevent 
their  being  driven  like  dumb  cattle  at  the  will  of 
the  miserable  little  lordlings.  We  have  some 
reason  to  hope  better  things  of  them  hereafter; 
but  there  are  serious  drawbacks.  The  way  these 
petty  officials  strut  in  all  kinds  of  uniform  tells 
against  the  national  character.  The  employment 
of  woman  in  the  meanest  occupations — as  I  saw 
one  to-day  spreading  manure  from  a  heap  with 
her  hands — tells  against  them.  The  nation  that 
offers  all  the  adoration  of  which  human  nature  is 
capable  to  an  ideal  woman,  and  leaves  not  even 
respect  for  the  real  women — mothers,  daughters, 
and  wives — has  certainly  no  immoderately  hopeful 
future. 

This  letter,  penciled  at  various  stoppages  of  the 
train,  is  now  to  be  finished  in  the  Salla  at  Rome,* 
waiting  for  the  train  to  Naples.  A  walk  of  an 
hour  through  Rome  by  starlight  and  gaslight 
shows  an  immense  improvement  over  four  years 
ago.  Letter  boxes,  telegraph  wires,  clean  streets, 
gaslights,  streets  torn  up  for  other  improvements, 
new  buildings,  and  plentiful  supply  of  whitewash, 
show  that  the  nineteenth  century  has  penetrated 
the  outside  of  the  city  and  shut  up  the  fourteenth 
in  the  narrow  walls  of  the  Vatican. 


XXIII. 

THE  CHURCHES  OF  ROME 

iT/^)ET  me  set  one  before  you.  Among  the 
^  {  thousand  things  one  desires  to  bring  from 
Europe  I  found  nothing  I  so  much  desired, 
and  so  thoroughly  determined  to  bring,  as  a  cathe- 
dral. We  need  apprehend  no  difficulty  in  bring- 
ing home  a  cathedral ;  for,  not  to  speak  of  the 
transmigrations  of  the  palace  of  Aladdin,  which  we 
all  believed  once,  (and  half  wish  we  did  now,)  are 
we  not  told  that  the  angels  brought  the  house  in 
which  Mary  lived  from  Nazareth  to  Loretto  ? 

It  is  always  best  to  know  some  of  a  sight  before 
we  try  to  see  it.  For  a  century  the  great  Method- 
ist body  built  churches  in  America,  sometimes  at 
the  rate  of  several  a  day.  It  covered  a  continent 
with  ten  thousand  buildings  varying  in  value  from 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  ;  and  yet  this  great  denomi- 
nation did  not  invest  in  a  century's  time  but  a  trifle 
more  than  a  fourth  of  the  cost  of  the  building  we 
are  about  to  set  before  you.  There  has  been  ex- 
pended on  it  nearly  one  hundred  million  dollars, 


The  Churches  of  Rome.  175 

and  that  too  in  a  country  and  age  where  materials 
and  labor  have  been  exceedingly  cheap.  No  won- 
der they  have  been  obliged  to  sell  permission  to 
sin  to  obtain  funds  for  its  erection ;  for  men  will 
pay  for  sinning  as  they  will  pay  for  nothing  else. 
This  church  is  the  grandest  monument  to  the 
Reformation  ever  built;  for  the  sale  of  indulg- 
ences, to  supply  the  funds  for  its  erection,  lighted 
the  flames  of  that  Reformation. 

Coming  before  the  church,  we  see  a  vast  col- 
onnade of  two  hundred  and  eighty-four  columns, 
each  sixty-two  feet  in  height,  arranged  in  four 
circular  lines  on  either  side.  Any  one  of  these 
columns,  erected  to  commemorate  an  historic 
event,  would  be  an  object  of  admiration  in  any 
city.  On  the  top  of  these  is  a  stone  roof,  sur- 
mounted by  one  hundred  and  ninety-two  stat- 
ues of  saints,  each  statue  being  twelve  feet  high. 
I  remember  seeing  a  catalogue  of  all  the  statuary 
in  one  of  our  oldest  States.  It  included  all  in 
parks,  halls,  cemeteries,  and  private  houses.  And 
the  total  number  was  twenty-five.  These  circular 
colonnades  are  arranged  to  afford  a  drive-way  wide 
enough  for  two  carriages  abreast  between  its  two 
middle  rows,  and  for  one  carriage  in  each  of  the 
side  rows.  These  terminate  in  a  covered  way, 
leading  up  to  the  two  front  corners  of  the  church 


176  Sights  and  Insights. 

itself.     Then  comes  the  wide  vestibule,  and  the 
unequaled  church. 

The  dimensions  are  as  follows :  Length  of  space 
inclosed  in  circular  colonnades,  seven  hundred  and 
seventy-seven  feet;  breadth,  five  hundred  and 
eighty-eight  feet;  length  of  covered  way,  three 
hundred  feet ;  breadth  of  vestibule,  forty-seven 
feet;  length  of  church,  six  hundred  and  thirteen 
feet :  total,  seventeen  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
feet ;  almost  exactly  one  third  of  a  mile.  Set  it  up 
before  you.  Clear  away  houses,  streets,  or  forests 
enough  for  its  standing  room,  and  be  amazed  at 
its  immensity. 

Glance  up  at  its  height.  Its  whole  front,  crowned 
with  statues  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles  is  one 
hundred  and  sixty-two  feet  high.  Seven  eighths 
of  the  steeples  in  our  country  are  short  enough  to 
stand  inside  the  church.  Look  at  the  dome. 
Arch-street  Church,  Philadelphia,  a  model  of  taste 
and  beauty,  is  ninety  feet  long.  Suppose  we  try  the 
dome  on  that  Church,  and  see  how  it  fits.  Like 
a  man's  hat  on  a  baby's  head !  Let  one  edge  cor- 
respond with  the  rear  wall  of  the  church,  and  the 
other  will  go  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  beyond  the 
front.  That  is,  the  mere  dome  has  a  diameter 
greater  than  the  length  of  two  such  churches. 
And  remember  that  this   enormous  structure  does 


The  Churches  of  Rome.  i  y/ 

not  begin  till  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
feet  has  been  reached — few  steeples  are  tall  enough 
to  serve  as  ladders  to  reach  its  beginning — then  it 
rises  more  than  three  hundred  feet  beyond. 

Rome  has  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  sorae^ 
what  similar  churches — one  for  every  day  in  the 
year,  except  leap  year.  All  of  them  are  objects 
of  interest.  They  have  had  lavished  on  them  the 
best  efforts  of  the  best  endowed  natures.  They 
shine  with  alabaster  and  marble.  Stories  of  the 
sainted  are  written  in  most  beautiful  pictures  by 
painter's  brush,  or  the  patient  toil  of  the  mosaic 
worker.  They  are  often  crowded  with  statuary 
embodying  heroic  deeds  and  martyr  sacrifices. 
They  stand  on  spots  where  Saints  Pudsns,  Clem- 
ent, Paul,  and  numberless  others,  are  believed  to 
have  lived  or  died,  not  counting  their  lives  dear 
unto  themselves  so  that  they  might  finish  their 
course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  they  received  of 
the  Lord  Jesus.  These  churches  really  have  the 
grandest  and  holiest  associations,  are  magnificent 
in  themselves,  are  the  highest  result  of  man's  ar- 
chitectural ability,  and  most  of  them  are  decorated 
with  the  best  designs  of  artists  that  God  dowered 
with  wondrous  ability.  At  their  altars  is  an  almost 
perpetual  service,  where  priests,  gorgeous  in  silk 
and  gold,  intone  mellifluous  prayers ;  where  tidy 


178  Sights  and  Insights. 

boys  swing  censers  of  perfume,  and  where  magnifi- 
cent voices  chant  anthems  sacred  for  two  thou- 
sand years.  Now,  what  is  the  result  of  all  this 
grandeur  of  architecture,  beauty  of  painting,  ven- 
erableness  of  antiquity,  gorgeousness  of  parapher- 
nalia, propriety  of  intonation,  sweetness  of  incense, 
sacredness  of  association,  and  machinery  of  re- 
ligion, on  the  priests  who  perform  or  the  people 
who  participate  ?  Most  beggarly.  Outside  influ- 
ences do  much  for  man  when  his  heart  is  clean ; 
almost  nothing  if  it  is  not.  The  volcano  recks 
little  of  the  flowers  that  have  sought  to  beautify 
its  ragged  crest  and  sweeten  its  sulphurous  breath. 
Its  fiery  flood  turns  not  aside  because  some  human 
hearts  are  living  out  their  loves  in  a  home  that  lies 
in  its  path.  And  man's  heart  of  power  recks  not 
for  gentle  or  tempestuous  influences  when  it  moves 
out  to  execute  its  purpose. 

Thus  these  priests  and  people  are  what  they  are 
from  inner,  and  not  from  outer,  influences.  From 
him  who  calls  himself  Christ's  vicegerent,  down 
to  the  humblest  menial  in  these  churchly  muse- 
ums, there  is  no  evidence  that  these  things  have 
at  all  ennobled  their  lives.  Popes  have  been  no 
better  than  ordinary  kings,  and  they,  as  a  rule,  are 
monuments  of  the  bad  gone  to  seed.  The  laziness, 
rapacity,  and  moral  vileness  of  priests  in  this  city 


The  Churches  of  Rome,  179 

has  passed  into  a  proverb.  The  sons  of  Eli  can 
make  themselves  vile  while  they  handle  holy  ves- 
sels. I  have  seen  them  joke  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  solemn  scenes,  and  while  engaged  in  the 
most  serious  services.  I  commenced  to  make  an 
arrangement  with  a  subordinate  to  see  the  Pan- 
theon by  moonlight.  He  rushed  from  me  at  the 
first  word  to  the  altar  to  attend  to  his  part  of  the 
service,  came  back,  and  said,  "  Come  to  number 
10 — Amen — via  della  Palombella — Amen — at  ten 
o'clock  —  Retorno  subito;"  and  off  he  went  to 
keep  up  his  end  of  the  service,  and  came  back  im- 
mediately to  finish  his  talk  with  me.  The  same 
day  I  went  into  S.  Trinita  de'  Pelligrini  to  see 
Guido's  picture.  It  was  curtained,  and  a  mass 
was  in  progress  at  an  adjacent  altar.  The  sacris- 
tan withdrew  the  curtain,  moved  me  over  to  the 
point  of  the  best  light,  which  I  discovered  to  be 
the  center  of  a  group  of  kneeling  people,  and 
where  I  could  put  my  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
officiating  priest.  I  never  felt  so  much  like  a  hea- 
then in  my  life.  And  now  the  one  picture  I  most 
distinctly  remember  in  that  church  is  that  of  two 
men  tramping  round  in  a  service  among  kneeling 
people  to  see  another  picture.  But  the  officer  did 
not  care  a  bit.  His  prospective  half  franc  blinded 
him  to  all  incongruities. 


180  Sights  and  Insights. 

The  effect  on  the  people  is  no  better.  Like 
priest,  like  people.  What  different  is  the  rude 
country  boor  who  has  stalked  round  or  knelt  down 
in  open-mouthed  astonishment  at  a  snarl  of  angels' 
legs  and  arms,  at  contorted  attitudes  of  naked 
men  and  women  in  marble,  who  has  been  dinned 
with  incomprehensible  words  of  an  unknown 
tongue,  and  been  treated  to  smoke,  like  so  much 
bacon,  for  half  an  hour  ?  Nothing  perceptibly- 
better,  I  assure  you.  Rosewater  don't  take  the 
dross  out  of  ore.  It  takes  fire.  No  pungency  of 
incense  can  sweeten  human  nature,  especially 
Italian,  It  is  a  king  with  ten  thousand  going  to 
meet  one  with  twenty  thousand. 

How  I  have  longed  to  ring  in  their  ears  what 
Luther  heard  when  toiling  up  the  Holy  Stairs  on 
his  knees  :  "  The  just  shall  live  by  faith!  "  Italian 
character  is  the  embodied  result  of  the  opposite 
doctrine — living  by  works.  The  result  is  most 
deplorable  and  despicable.  Italian  character  had 
a  good  foundation — Roman  bravery,  hardihood, 
obedience  to  law,  and  contempt  for  Punic  faith. 
The  end  is  feebleness,  cowardice,  mendacity,  and 
^lawless  lust.  One  would  think  that  salvation  by 
works  would  at  least  result  in  morality.  But  it 
does  not.  Nothing  but  the  power  of  God  within 
ever  does.     Feelings,  passions,  desires,  override  all 


The  Churches  of  Rome.  181 

mere  reasonings  and  ideas.  But  the  culmination 
of  the  evil  of  salvation  by  works  is  in  this — that 
some  saints  have  supererogatory  works,  and  the 
Church  has  treasured  up  the  sum  total  of  these  for 
the  benefit  of  those  who  are  insolvent  in  morality 
but  solvent  in  money.  What  every  church  in 
Rome  bears  as  an  amulet  of  honor  on  its  portal 
is  really  the  brand  of  its  shame  :  "Plenary  indul- 
gence daily,  perpetual,  for  the  living  and  the  dead." 

A  decidedly  plenary  statement.  And  this  indul- 
gence is  easily  got.  A  kiss  on  the  cross  in  the 
Coliseum  is  good  for  one  hundred  days'  indul- 
gence ;  a  crawling  up  the  Holy  Stairs  on  the  hands 
and  knees,  for  a  thousand  years ;  and  a  sight  of 
Saint  Veronica's  pocket-handkerchief  is  good  for 
seven  thousand  years'  indulgence.  Too  dog-cheap. 
Men  cannot  believe  that  what  costs  so  little  can 
be  of  any  value.  But  then  nobody  knows  what 
amount  of  penance  may  be  due  us  for  our  sins, 
and  as  insurance  costs  so  little,  it  is  just  as  well 
to  have  an  anchor  to  windward  by  laying  in 
a  stock  of  indulgence  from  penance.  So  the  sale 
is  enormous,  even  if  the  market  value  is  as  low  as 
Confederate  bonds. 

Any   Church    having   such   an   element   in   its 

economy  shows  that  it  prefers  money  in  its  coffers 

to  morality  in  its  communicants,  and  will  build 

12 


1 82  Sights  and  Insights. 

splendid  temples  of  stone,  but  beggarly  temples  of 
souls.  It  wins  money  marvelously.  I  went  to  see 
II  Santissimo  Bambino,  the  richest  thing  in  Rome. 
It  has  more  jewels  than  the  king,  and,  regardless 
of  taste,  wears  them  all  at  once — on  crown,  fore- 
head, breast,  arm,  every-where.  It  has  servants, 
horses,  and  carriages  of  its  own.  But  it  is  only 
a  wooden  doll  about  the  size  of  a  babe. 

The  statue  of  the  Virgin  in  St.  Aquostino  is  al- 
most equally  rich.  There  is  hardly  room  on  neck, 
forehead,  ears,  and  whole  breast  to  display  her 
jewels.  Her  exposed  forefinger  is  not  a  tenth  long 
enough  to  wear  her  diamond  rings.  They  are 
arranged  by  scores  in  adjacent  cases.  She  has 
watches,  cameos,  gold  chains  by  the  rod,  and  re- 
ceived money  every  minute  of  my  hour's  inspec- 
tion. Her  wealth  is  reckoned  by  millions.  Yes, 
they  get  money;  but  do  the  souls  get  bread?  I 
could  but  think  of  a  scene  that  occurred  within  a 
stone's  throw,  when  a  whole  piazza  swarmed  with 
a  hungry  crowd,  after  the  erection  of  fountains, 
crying,  "  Pane,  pane,  non  fontane  !  " — "  Bread, 
bread,  not  fountains."  So  I  wished  the  hungry 
crowd  might  cry  for  the  bread  of  life,  not  stone 
images.  What  a  ceaseless  hunger  it  must  be  that 
always  yearns  but  is  never  filled ;  that  knows  no 
returning  stream   nor   flood !     What   has    such  a 


The  Churches  of  Rome.  183 

Church  to  give  ?  Wearying  works,  but  no  restful 
trust.  I  never  saw  so  clearly  the  utter  uselessness 
of  machinery,  manners,  and  millinery  for  salvation. 
Art  has  power,  but  sin  has  more.  Sin  masters  art, 
and  makes  it  serve  to  decorate  the  place  where  it 
revels.  It  is  not  power  in  man  nor  of  man  that 
saves,  but  power  above  man ;  none  other  nor  less 
than  the  power  of  God.  The  aurora  of  its  com- 
ing to  Italy  gleams  already  in  the  eastern  sky. 


XXIV. 

PONTIFICAL  NEPOTISM. 

5TL  NEVER  knew  what  nepotism  meant.  I  was 
(^  familiar  with  its  derivation  and  dictionary- 
meaning,  and  it  seems  to  me  some  stump 
orator  alluded  to  it  in  the  last  campaign.  But 
when  I  came  before  a  vast  palace,  fronting  on 
three  squares  and  streets,  each  facade  designed 
and  executed  by  a  different  architect,  inclosing 
a  beautiful  garden,  containing  fourteen  galleries 
and  rooms  filled  with  rarest  pictures,  statues,  and 
works  of  art,  besides  uncounted  other  rooms  ;  and 
when  I  rode  out  to  the  Janiculan  hill,  and  found 
a  villa  with  elegant  gardens,  four  miles  in  circuit, 
filled  with  fountains,  flowers,  and  all  that  nature, 
assisted  by  art,  could  accomplish ;  and  further, 
when  I  returned  to  Rome  and  saw  a  second  pal- 
ace, and  found  that  both  palaces  and  villa,  and 
a  fund  sufficient  to  endow  and  keep  them  in  abun- 
dant wealth  for  two  hundred  years  past  and  an 
unknown  future,  had  been  only  a  part  of  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  nepotism  of  one  Pope,  who  nepoted 


Pontifical  Nepotism.  185 

only  eleven  years,  then  my  mind,  expanded  by 
these  object-lessons,  began  to  survey  and  map  out 
the  continental  dimensions  of  nepotism.  It  is  a 
good  thing  to  spread  yourself  upon.  They  called 
him  "  Innocent ;  "  not  in  jest,  assuredly,  for 
About,  in  his  "  Rome  Contemporaine,"  tells  us 
"  that  Innocent  X.  was  constrained  to  found  the 
Mansion  Pamphili.  The  casuists  and  jurisconsults 
relieved  his  scruples,  for  he  had  some ;  they  proved 
that  the  Pope  had  a  right  to  economize  the  reve- 
nues of  the  Holy  See,  to  assure  the  future  of  his 
family  ;  they  fixed,  with  a  moderation  that  quite 
makes  our  hair  stand  on  our  head,  the  measures  of 
liberality  permitted  to  each  Pope  ;  they  agreed 
that  the  sovereign  Pontiff  could  without  abuse, 
besides  annual  revenues  to  nephews,  give  nine 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  each  of  his  nieces ; 
the  general  of  the  Jesuits,  R.  V.  Vitelleschi,  ap- 
proved this  decision  ;  thereupon  Innocent  X.  took 
it  upon  himself  to  found  the  Pamphili  Mansion,  to 
construct  the  Pamphili  Palace,  to  lay  out  the  Villa 
Pamphili,  and  to  pamphilify  whenever  he  could  the 
revenues  of  the  Church  and  State." 

If  any  scruples  remained  after  the  labor  of  law- 
yers, divines,  and  the  general  of  Jesuits,  they 
were  effectually  dispersed  by  his  sister-in-law, 
Olympia  Maldacchini,  who,  even  if  Papessa  Joan 


1 86  Sights  and  Insights. 

was  a  myth,  wielded  the  papal  powers.  She  ran 
the  machine  of  papacy  as  a  mint,  and  coined 
enormous  sums  from  the  sale  of  holy  offices. 
During  the  later  years  of  the  life  of  Innocent  X. 
she  never  left  his  presence,  except  to  convey  the 
profits  to  her  palace  ;  and  on  those  occasions  she 
used  to  turn  the  lock  on  him  and  carry  the  key 
in  her  pocket.  Surely  he  was  as  much  as  ten  in- 
nocents rolled  into  one. 

I  saw  his  monument  in  holy  St.  Agnes  to-day. 
It  is  admirable.  It  is  one  of  those  sculptures  that 
tell  their  own  story  at  once,  I  read  it  right  off. 
"  Here  kneels  the  triple-crowned  father,  reaching 
out  his  hand  to  Olympia,  who  kneels  a  little  below. 
He  has  already  given  her  the  golden  chalice  from 
the  altar.  It  is  so  full  of  coin  that  you  can  see 
one  over  the  edge ;  but  still  she  reaches  for  more, 
and  still  he  reaches  to  give."  A  bystander  was 
horrified.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  don't  you  see  that 
kneeling  woman  is  a  holy  angel?  Yet  she  kneels 
below  the  holy  father.  She  holds  in  her  hand  the 
holy  grail.  What  you  call  a  coin  is  a  gilded  rep- 
resentation of  the  wafer  that  is  the  real  body 
and  blood  of  Christ :  and  that  angel  is  about  to 
give  him  the  holy  sacrament  and  extreme  unction  ! 
Olympia  and  money  in  a  monument ! "  I  could 
only  say   that    if  it  meant   extreme   unction,  he 


Pontifical  Nepotism.  1 87 

needed  as  extreme  an  unction  as  any  angel  could 
produce.  But  in  my  opinion  Maini,  who  erected 
the  monument,  was  in  a  kind  of  Caiaphian  mode, 
and  builded  wiser  than  he  knew. 

It  amazes  one  to  find  so  many  of  the  seventy- 
two  palaces  in  Rome  were  built  from  the  funds  of 
the  Church.  Pope  Urban  VII.  seemed  possessed 
with  a  desire  of  getting  all  Rome  into  the  hands 
of  his  nephews.  His  family  symbol  was  bees. 
The  traveler  finds  them  swarming  every-where — 
not  only  on  the  fronts  of  churches,  the  baptistery 
of  the  Lateran,  the  Baldacchino  of  St.  Peter,  all 
over  his  palace  and  tomb,  but  on  the  houses  in 
which  he  invested  his  funds.  With  the  change  of 
ideas  they  cease  to  be  the  symbols  of  his  power  and 
glory,  and  now  stand  to  blazon  him  as  the  greatest 
thief  of  his  time,  but  not  of  his  order.  For  Paul  V. 
enriched  the  Borghese  family  beyond  belief.  Dur- 
ing the  first  seven  years  of  his  reign  he  had  given 
to  one  nephew,  Cardinal  Scipione,  sufficient  funds 
to  yield  an  annual  revenue  of  $150,000.  The  Pope 
felt  the  need  of  making  his  family  the  most  power- 
ful in  Rome,  and  did  it.  As  a  system  of  temporal 
sovereignty  it  is  the  most  miserable  inventable. 
Having  no  family  of  his  own,  he  must  enrich  and 
endow  half  a  dozen  ;  and  when  he  dies,  a  new  set 
of  rival,  and  often  hostile,  families  must  be  more 


1 88  Sights  and  Insights. 

greatly  enriched.  It  is  a  plan  for  bringing  into 
eminence  and  power  the  meanest  kind  of  men  by 
the  meanest  means. 

Of  course  there  are  notable  exceptions.  Human 
nature  repudiates  a  perpetual  glut.  One  excep- 
tion was  Alexander  VII.,  whose  family  could  give 
such  banquets  that  three  fish  cost  two  hundred 
and  thirty  crowns,  and  the  silver  plate  on  which 
they  had  been  served  was  all  thrown  into  the  - 
Tiber.  Being  elected  pope  he  refused  to  aggran- 
dize his  family,  saying  he  had  no  relations  but  the 
poor.  Setting  aside  these  exceptions,  it  is  the 
most  natural  result  that  the  papacy  should  have 
been  simply  an  instrument  of  extortion ;  that  it 
beggared  all  Italy,  and  sent  its  Tetzels,  with  bales 
of  indulgences  and  chests  to  be  filled  with  money, 
into  all  parts  of  the  earth.  As  I  lifted  myself  on 
tiptoe  to  look  into  one  of  the  enormous  iron-clad 
money-chests  of  the  papacy  at  St.  Angelo  yester- 
day, I  thought  of  him  whom  they  claim  to  have 
directly  succeeded,  and  who  was  sent  without 
money  or  scrip.  Within  a  few  feet  of  the  treasury 
were  the  holes  in  the  pavement  where  posts  were 
placed  for  the  strangulation  of  Cardinal  Caraffa 
under  Pius  IV.  His  brother,  the  marquis,  was 
beheaded  the  same  night.  Near  by  are  the  dun- 
geons  in   which   Cagliostro,    Cellini,    and   others 


Pontifical  Nepotism.  i8g 

have  languished  and  died.  Truly,  as  Victor 
Emanuel's  soldier-escort  said  to  me,  "  The  Pope  is 
always  one  very  good  Christian."  It  may  be  ; 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  when  the  devil  has  been 
tempting  the  pretended  vicegerent  of  Christ,  he 
has  not  been  obliged  to  offer  them  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  world.  They  have  worshiped  him 
for  what  they  could  get. 

But  a  better  day  has  come.  The  Pope  no  longer 
lives  by  extortion,  but  by  charity.  So  long  as 
princes, 'nobles,  and  peasants  choose  to  pour  in 
their  pounds  and  pence,  so  long  he  has  abun- 
dance. Very  well  so  long  as  it  is  charity  and  not 
robbery.  It  alters  his  tone  decidedly.  When  the 
Empress  of  Russia  called  on  him,  a  few  days 
since,  he  did  not  demand,  under  threat  of  dam- 
nation, some  wrong  to  be  done.  He  meekly  asked 
that  the  Romanists  of  Poland  might  enjoy  re- 
ligious liberty.  Good !  He  sees  already  that 
religious  liberty  is  a  priceless  boon.  He  is  open 
to  conviction.  This  too  brief  freedom  of  Rome 
has  penetrated  even  the  Vatican.  As  Galileo 
said,  "  The  world  moves."  Pontifical  nepotism  is 
a  thing  of  the  past.  Let  the  ennobled  (technically) 
families  keep  their  palaces.  We  want  to  make 
pilgrimages  to  the  immense  piles  and  behold  the 
wonders  of  art.     We  want  to  transfer  to  the  cham- 


190  Sights  and  Insights. 

bers  of  the  brain  those  marvelous  results  of  cen- 
turies of  aesthetic  culture.  Let  these  evidences 
of  enormous  wealth  remain — for  they  speak  of  the 
immeasurable  power  of  man's  religious  nature,  that 
can  make  any  sacrifice,  endure  any  torture,  live  in 
any  poverty,  if  so  be  that  he  thinks  that  he  can 
obtain  eternal  life. 


XXV. 

UNDERGROUND  ROME. 

^OMING  to  Rome,  I  remembered  it  was  the 
home  of  the  Pope,  the  place  of  St.  Peter's ; 
that  here  was  the  palace  of  the  Caesars,  the 
homes  of  Horace  and  Cicero,  the  forum  of  the 
ancient  republic,  and  the  Coliseum,  whose  soil 
had  drunk  the  blood  of  thousands,  "butchered  to 
make  a  Roman  holiday."  But  most  of  all  I  re- 
membered that  here  the  Gospel  had  "free  course ;" 
that  here  Paul  lived,  preached,  and  perished  ;  and 
here  were  yet  remaining  indications  of  his  won- 
derful success.  I  glanced  hurriedly  at  the  monu- 
ments of  antiquity,  scarcely  noticed  the  condition 
of  the  modern  city,  and  hurried  down  to  Porta  San 
Sebastiano,  at  the  southern  part  of  the  city,  and 
after  going  along  the  Via  Appia  a  mile  and  a 
quarter,  came  to  the  Catacomb  of  Saint  Callixtus. 
Having  previously  provided  ourselves  with  can- 
dles, we  arranged  with  a  guide  to  explore  its  mys- 
terious depths.  Passing  down  a  long  flight  of 
stairs,  we  come  to  galleries  cut  in  the  soft  tufa 
rock.     These  galleries  are  about  three  feet  wide, 


192  Sights  and  Insights. 

and  from  six  to  ten  feet  high.  On  each  side 
places  have  been  cut  for  the  reception  of  human 
bodies.  They  are  placed  one  above  another,  from 
four  to  seven  in  a  tier,  according  to  the  height  of 
the  gallery.  A  thin  wall  is  built  in  front  of  each 
body,  and  either  in  the  cement  with  which  the 
wall  is  built,  or  upon  a  piece  of  marble  slab,  is 
cut  any  inscription  desired.  These  galleries  are 
wonderful  in  extent.  They  have  been  explored 
to  the  length  of  a  thousand  miles.  They  cross  each 
other  at  right  angles,  like  streets  in  a  city.  Where 
the  nature  of  the  rock  will  admit  of  it  they  are  ar- 
ranged in  stories  like  a  house,  one  above  another,  in 
some  places  three  or  four  stories  deep.  It  is  esti- 
mated that  there  are  places  for  six  millions  of  bod- 
ies in  these  tombs  about  Rome.  An  idea  of  their 
vastness  maybe  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in  1837 
a  school  consisting  of  a  master  and  thirty  scholars 
was  so  effectually  lost  in  them  as  never  to  be  found. 
One  instinctively  asks  the  question,  "  To  whom 
did  those  tombs  belong  ?"  We  have  read  in  all 
our  classics  that  the  Romans  were  accustomed  to 
burn  their  dead.  Who  are  these  buried  in  the 
living  rock  ?  We  instantly  remember  that  Christ 
was  put  in  a  new  tomb  hewn  out  of  the  rock.  It 
occurs  to  me  that  his  followers  would  be  anxious 
to  imitate  his  example.      This  inference  is  con- 


Underground  Rome.  193 

firmed  by  a  thousand  proofs  assuring  us  that  these 
are  the  bodies  of  the  early  Christians.  The  date 
of  the  earliest  recognized  burial  is  only  forty  years 
after  the  death  of  Christ,  and  in  the  year  410  A.  D. 
burials  entirely  ceased.  Here,  then,  we  have 
the  amazing  number  of  six  millions  of  Christian 
tombs  in  Rome  in  three  centuries !  Well  may  we 
say  that  the  word  had  free  course,  ran,  and  was 
glorified ! 

The  guide  moved  on  speedily  through  the  long 
dark  passages,  the  feeble  light  scarcely  doing  more 
than  making  darkness  visible.  We  cried  "  As- 
petto  "  to  him  again  and  again  as  we  wished  to 
examine  a  broken  wall,  look  behind  it  at  the  sa- 
cred dust,  or  before  it  to  the  "  shapeless  sculpture  " 
and  rudely  cut  or  scratched  epitaph.  There  was 
hardly  a  yard  that  would  not  hold  us  interested 
spectators,  but  we  had  miles  and  miles  to  traverse. 
We  frequently  came  to  places  where  the  passage 
was  enlarged  into  a  kind  of  subterranean  chapel. 
In  addition  to  the  bodies  that  every-where  lined 
these  passages,  we  sometimes  find  rude  frescoes 
of  Scripture  subjects.  The  most  frequent  one  is 
that  of  the  Good  Shepherd  bearing  the  lamb  on 
his  shoulders. 

There  we  wandered  by  the  hour,  deep  in  the 
heart  of  the  earth,  surrounded  on  every  side  by 


194  Sights  and  Insights. 

the  remains  of  those  that  were  once  living  and 
active.  It  often  seemed  to  me  that  a  mistake  on 
the  part  of  the  guide  might  involve  us  in  the  same 
fate  as  the  master  and  his  school  before  mentioned. 
Sometimes  we  descended  to  a  lower  tier,  ranged 
awhile  in  its  utter  darkness,  then  ascended  again 
to  an  upper  story,  moved  swiftly  from  one  point 
of  interest  to  another,  until  we  ceased  to  wonder 
that  Roman  soldiers  could  not  follow  the  early 
Christians  in  these  their  fastnesses.  A  kind  of 
awe  comes  over  one  as  he  remembers  this  was  not 
only  the  place  of  the  dead,  but  often  of  the  dying 
— those  dying  by  violence. 

Rome  was  an  implacable  enemy  of  the  early 
Church.  Up  to  the  year  311  A.  D.  the  Church 
was  bitterly  persecuted  under  twelve  different  em- 
perors. Some  of  these  persecutions  were  ten 
years  long,  pressed  with  all  the  vigor  and  venom 
that  hate  could  inspire.  Yet  by  what  would 
seem  to  be  a  singular  provision  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence, Rome  had  ever  guaranteed  to  its  many-na- 
tioned  subjects  their  own  rights  of  sepulture.  The 
Christians  chose  theirs  in  imitation  of  Christ,  laid 
their  dead  in  the  rock,  and  these  rocky  caverns 
became  to  them  the  places  of  resort  in  time  when 
they  had  no  place  of  safety  above  ground.  Not 
only  were  they  places  of  resort,  but  also  places  of 


Underground  Rome.  195 

worship  ;  and  these  dark  caverns  have  often  rung 
with  songs  of  praise.  In  these  little  enlarge- 
ments called  chapels  the  rite  of  baptism  has  been 
again  and  again  administered,  and  here  men  have 
commemorated  the  dying  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  when  they  knew  not  if  they  should  ever 
meet  again.  Persecution  even  followed  them  into 
these  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.  St.  Stephen, 
one  of  the  first  bishops,  lived  here,  and  here  was 
slain.  While  officiating  at  service  the  soldiers  en- 
tered. They  paused  a  moment,  overcome  by  his 
holy  aspect,  but  then  beheaded  him.  The  Em- 
peror Valerian  issued  an  edict  forbidding  the  Chris- 
tians to  meet  in  these  places,  and,  seeing  a  multi- 
tude go  in  one  day,  ordered  his  soldiers  to  wall  up 
the  place  and  keep  guard  at  its  entrance.  No  one 
of  them  ever  came  out.  Pope  Damasus,  in  the 
sixth  century,  exploring  the  catacombs,  came  to 
the  place  of  their  last  repose,  and  constructed  a 
window  that  men  might  look  in  upon  their  re- 
mains, and  left  it  as  a  kind  of  Christian  Pompeii. 

These  catacombs  have  been  ravaged  again  and 
again  :  by  rude  soldiers  seeking  for  spoils ;  by  rob- 
bers who  used  them  as  dens  in  which  to  hide ; 
by  Christians,  who  sold  these  bones  by  the  cart- 
load as  holy  relics  of  the  early  saints. 

All  knowledge   of  their  location  was   lost  for 


196  Sights  and  Insights. 

centuries,  until  the  last  day  of  May,  1578.  Some 
workmen,  digging  for  pozzolana,  opened  away  into 
their  recesses.  It  was  a  discovery  to  the  Church, 
equal  to  the  discovery  of  a  continent  to  an  em- 
pire. All  Rome  thronged  out  to  see  the  new  city 
under  ground,  greater  than  the  one  above  ground. 
Since  that  time  they  have  been  diligently  ex- 
plored, the  passages  cleared,  the  broken  arches  re- 
paired, the  inscriptions  removed,  and  the  frescoes 
copied  by  men  who  regarded  themselves  almost  as 
in  the  holy  of  holies.  Monsieur  Bosio  spent  thirty 
years  in  studying  the  catacombs.  Monsieur 
D'Agincourt  went  for  six  months  and  stayed  fifty 
years.  The  spirit  in  which  they  made  their  in- 
vestigations may  be  judged  from  a  remark  by 
Monsieur  Bosio.  A  portion  of  work  having  caved 
in,  and  shut  him  out  from  means  of  egress,  he 
said  :  "  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should  defile  this 
holy  place  by  leaving  my  vile  corpse  among  the 
precious  relics  of  sainted  martyrs." 

Seals  of  treaties  have  been  found  in  Nineveh, 
but  the  treaties  themselves  have  gone  to  dust. 
Here,  however,  the  whole  vast  book  remains.  Of 
these  inscriptions,  over  eleven  thousand  have  been 
either  removed  to  the  light  of  day,  or  faithfully 
and  accurately  copied.  And,  singularly  enough, 
these    inscriptions  contain    all    the   history   that 


Underground  Rome.  197 

we  have  of  the  Roman  Church  for  the  first  three 
centuries.  From  these  inscriptions  we  glean  their 
spirit,  their  theology,  and  somewhat  of  their 
circumstances. 

For  example,  in  the  midst  of  their  awful  trials 
we  discern  no  spirit  of  vindictiveness,  no  gratula- 
tion  when  the  trial  had  passed  away.  Many  of 
their  friends  had  been  subjected  to  a  violent  death  ; 
they  had  been  torn  by  wild  beasts ;  they  had  been 
slaughtered  by  the  hundred  in  the  Coliseum ;  yet 
nothing  but  the  sweetness  of  grace  gleams  in  these 
inscriptions.  Notice  this  one,  written  A.  D.  t6i  : 
"  While  on  his  knees,  and  about  to  sacrifice  to 
the  true  God,  he  was  led  away  to  execution.  O 
sad  times,  when  sacred  rites  and  prayers,  even  in 
caverns,  afford  no  protection  to  us  !  " 

We  discern  also  their  views  of  death.  The  date 
of  their  death  is  regarded  as  their  birthday,  or 
merely  the  day  of  their  departure.  There  is  no 
intimation  that  they  ever  thought  of  their  friends 
as  in  these  prepared  sepulchers.  They  speak  of 
them  as  "  gone  to  Christ ;  "  "  borne  away  by  an- 
gels." "You  have  already  gone  to  be  among  the 
innocent  ones."  [No  purgatory.]  Their  firm  con- 
fidence in  union  hereafter  is  seen  in  such  inscrip- 
tions as  these  :    "  You  will  arise ;  "    "  An  eternal 

home ; "    "  Sophronia,    you   will     live   with   your 

13 


198  Sights  and  Insights. 

friends;  you  will  live  in  God.  Dear  Sophronia, 
you  will  always  live  in  God.     You  live." 

Their  surroundings  and  social  position  may  be 
inferred  from  the  frequent  illiteracy  of  the  inscrip- 
tions. The  spelling  is  often  incorrect,  the  execu- 
tion frequently  inferior,  and  sometimes  scratched 
with  the  point  of  the  trowel  in  the  cement  while 
yet  soft.  They  buried  the  slave  and  his  master 
together,  for  with  them  there  was  "  neither  Jew 
nor  Greek,  bond  nor  free,  male  nor  female,  but  all 
were  one  in  Christ  Jesus."  The  Gospel  alone  had 
power  to  break  down  this  prejudice  of  all  ages. 

The  following  inscription  informs  us  that  the 
priests  of  this  early  time  were  married  :  "  Petronia, 
a  priest's  wife.  The  type  of  modesty.  In  this 
place  I  lay  my  bones.  Spare  your  tears,  dear  hus- 
band and  daughter,  and  believe  it  is  forbidden  to 
weep  for  one  who  lives  in  God." 

Their  devotion  for  their  children  is  wholly  ex- 
ceptional from  the  life  they  saw  around  them. 
Witness  the  following  inscription  :  "  Navarina,  in 
peace ;  a  sweet  soul,  who  lived  sixteen  years  and 
five  months;  a  soul  sweet  as  honey."  They  also 
practiced  infant  baptism,  and  did  not  immerse 
adults. 

Concerning  their  theology,  we  see  they  held  to 
the  spirituality  of  God.     This  is  the  more  remark- 


Underground  Rome.  199 

able  when  we  consider  that  they  were  surrounded 
with  many  pagan  representations  of  the  deity. 
Only  once  did  their  frescoes  attempt  to  represent 
the  Father.  It  is  evident  that  they  drew  their 
theology  solely  from  the  canonical  Scriptures. 
All  essential  doctrines  may  be  recognized  in  in- 
scriptions and  frescoes.  None  of  what  we  call 
papal  heresies  existed  in  the  early  Church.  They 
gave  the  cup  to  the  laity.  They  accorded  no 
worship  to  Mary.  Peter  was  not  eminent  above 
his  fellow-disciples.  Such  a  thing  as  holy  water 
was  unknown.  All  the  figures  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment that  pointed  to  the  cross  are  produced 
again  and  again. 

We  are  frequently  presented  with  the  sacrifice 
of  Isaac ;  Moses  as  a  school-master,  to  bring  us  to 
Christ ;  the  burning  bush  ;  the  reception  of  the 
law ;  manna ;  and  that  living  rock,  which  was 
Christ ;  the  ascent  of  Elijah  ;  the  three  Hebrew 
children  in  the  fiery  furnace ;  Daniel  in  the  lions' 
den ;  and  Jonah  of  whom  Christ  said  he  was  a 
type  of  his  own  resurrection.  Precious  to  these 
men,  in  their  fiery  trials,  were  such  deliverances  as 
the  form  of  the  Fourth  brought  to  the  furnace,  or 
the  angel  brought  to  the  den  of  lions. 

Eagerly  we  ask,  What  thought  they  of  Christ  ? 
Every  prominent  event  in  his  life  was  portrayed — 


200  Sights  and  Insights. 

his  birth,  the  worship  of  the  angels,  his  baptism, 
the  marriage  supper,  his  blessing  little  children, 
healing  the  blind,  riding  into  Jerusalem,  talking 
with  the  woman  at  the  well,  multiplying  the  loaves 
and  fishes,  raising  Lazarus,  rebuking  Peter,  and 
his  ascent  from  Olivet. 

Did  they  think  him  divine  ?  Surely.  Christ  was 
worshiped.  Praises  were  addressed  to  him.  Even 
Pliny  says  of  the  early  Christians,  "  They  were 
wont  to  sing  hymns  unto  Christ  as  God."  He  is 
represented  as  on  a  throne,  crowned,  the  Alpha 
and  Omega.  Such  phrases  as  these  are  to  be  met 
with  :  "  Baptized  into  God  Christ,"  "  Live  in  God 
Christ,"  "  Live  in  Christ  God,"  "  The  Everlasting 
God  Christ,"  "The  Eternal  God  Christ." 

We  have  Bible-teaching  in  the  Bible,  but  here 
that  teaching  was  embodied  in  belief  and  action. 
The  belief  was  implicit,  the  action  sublime.  The 
soil  of  the  Coliseum  has  lost  all  tinge  of  the  blood 
of  thousands  poured  out  in  the  arena ;  but  here 
are  still  to  be  found  the  bodies  which  were  there 
sundered  from  life  by  the  swift  sword  of  the  gladi- 
ator, or  the  sudden  spring  and  craunch  of  the  wild 
beast.  I  did  not  know  but  the  one  on  my  right 
hand,  marked  with  that  simple  M.,  which  showed 
that  his  blood  had  been  shed  to  make  Rome 
drunk  with  the  blood  of  the  saints,  was  slain  in  the 


Underground  Rome.  201 

very  presence  of  the  beast  Nero.  His  vile  dust, 
long  ago,  was  scattered  widely,  but  this  is  here 
preserved.  I  stood  beside  the  grave  of  Saint  Ce- 
cilia, whose  history  interested  me  more  than  I  can 
tell. 

I  came  up  from  the  depths  and  traversed  again 
the  long  Lapidarian  gallery  where  on  one  side 
these  inscriptions  are  preserved,  and  on  the  other 
inscriptions  from  pagan  tombs.  On  the  one  side 
is  rude  lettering,  bad  grammar,  very  poor  art,  but 
hope,  love,  and  eternal  life  ;  on  the  other  is  elegance 
of  diction,  beauty  of  art,  but  despair  and  death.  I 
could  but  go  again  to  those  sacred  haunts,  and, 
lingering  in  their  darkness,  think  of  the  power  that 
changed  timid  slaves  into  lords  of  earth  and  in- 
heritors of  heaven. 


CEIWDORIT 


XXVI. 

EXPRESSION   BY  ART. 

/1W!T  ONTHS  of  wandering  through  long  galle- 
cJ^J^:  ries  and  gazing  on  acres  of  canvas  have 
wrought  their  legitimate  result.  I  begin  to  know 
a  little  art.  For  example :  I  see  that  boundary- 
lines  distinguish  schools  of  painting  as  clearly  as 
Alps  divide  nations. 

People  differing  in  spirit  and  purpose  have  their 
art  characteristics  as  clearly  as  different  styles  of 
armor  for  their  warriors ;  and  individual  artists 
leave  their  personal  marks  upon  their  canvas  as 
clearly  as  Paul  or  Cicero  stamped  their  style  upon 
the  speaking  page. 

,  You  come  into  the  school  of  Holland,  of  which 
the  elder  and  younger  Teniers  are  good  examples, 
and  you  find  the  utmost  fidelity  of  rendering. 
They  cannot  paint  a  tree  or  a  mountain,  for  they 
have  no  canvas  large  enough  to  allow  them  to  be 
faithful  in  details.  But  they  can  paint  a  foaming 
beer  mug  with  as  much  care  and  exactness  as  if  it 
were  to  be  the  only  copy  of  the  newly-discovered 
table    of  the    ten    commandments,  and    paint    it 


Expression  by  Art.  203 

far  more  con  amore.  A  village  fair,  a  company 
of  topers  in  a  grog-shop,  the  stall  of  an  ancient 
cobbler,  or  the  spreading  efflorescence  of  their 
national  rose — the  cabbage — is  finished  with  a  per- 
fectness  of  detail  that  is  exceedingly  Dutch. 

I  saw  a  picture  in  Dresden,  by  a  Dutch  artist 
named  Frumente,  which  had  for  its  subject  the 
resurrection  of  Lazarus.  He  had  no  passion  of 
love  to  give  us  the  eager  faces  of  the  sisters ;  no 
imagination  to  portray  the  incoming  soul,  the  first 
throbs  of  life  under  the  ribs  of  death  ;  no  pious 
genius  to  catch  the  look  of  divine  power  in  the 
face  of  Christ ;  but  he  had  literal  matter-of-fact 
stupidity  enough  to  represent  Mary  shielding  her 
nostrils  with  her  robe,  and  a  soldier  with  his  nose 
turned  almost  upside  down.  "By  this  time  he 
stinketh "  was  the  one  great  literal  fact  appre- 
hended by  that  painter. 

There  are  many  Dutchmen  who  were  never  born? 
in  Holland,  and  who  never  painted  the  resurrec- 
tion of  Lazarus. 

The  Constantinopolitan  school  of  painters  were 
wont  to  represent  Christ  as  emaciated  in  the  last 
degree  by  his  night  of  sorrow.  He  seems  like  one 
who  had  died  of  marasmus  instead  of  crucifixion. 
Literally,  there  was  no  form,  nor  comeliness,  nor 
beauty  in  him  that  we  should  desire,  as  they  rep- 


204  Sights  and  Insights. 

resented  him.  Their  idea  ran  through  centuries, 
and  you  may  point  out  every  picture  whose  author 
had  felt  the  influence  of  that  school. 

It  even  reached  as  far  as  Florence,  and  the  lank 
figures  that  may  be  dimly  traced  in  the  mosaics 
of  the  Baptistry  unmistakably  declare  their  origin. 

You  know  a  picture  of  Rubens  (except  his 
wonderful  Crucifixion  and  Descent  from  the  Cross) 
by  his  great  blowsy  women,  built  on  the  Dutch 
model ;  and  when  you  see  the  exceptions,  which 
are  among  the  best  pictures  in  the  world,  you  are 
sorry  that  he  ever  painted  any  thing  else.  All  that 
he  painted  for  a  price  for  licentious  France  sadly 
detract  from  his  fame.  Titian  writes  his  name  in 
the  rich  clear  colors  of  an  Italian  sky,  caught  from 
the  heavens,  and  embalmed  on  canvas.  Raphael 
has  a  many-sidedness  that  refuses  to  be  classified. 
You  gaze  into  the  face  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  at 
"Dresden,  confessedly  the  best  picture  from  human 
fingers,  and  you  exult  with  her  in  the  worthy  pride 
of  motherhood.  She  stands  in  that  clear  light 
that  halos  every  holy  mother,  a  creator  right  be- 
side her  God.  You  feel  yourself,  Protestant  as 
you  are,  half  inclined  to  worship  and  adore. 

You  glance  aside  for  a  moment  to  the  child  that 
she  presents,  and  when  you  come  back  to  the 
face  it  has  changed;  there  must  be  a  human  soul 


Expression  by  Art,  205 

behind  it.  A  solemn  prescience  of  sorrow  is  look- 
ing out  of  those  eyes.  Your  own  eyes  fill  with 
tears.  That  lip  seems  to  tremble  and  hardly  re- 
strain itself  from  a  cry.  Again  you  come  to  the 
face — it  is  full  of  open-eyed  wonder  now.  It  is 
amazed  at  being  called  to  be  the  mother  of  the 
Lord.  It  says,  "And  can  it  be  that  thou,  my  Lord, 
shouldst  come  to  me  ?  "  And  at  the  same  time 
it  reminds  you  that  this  divine  honor  could-  not 
be  accepted  without  the  cross  of  human  shame. 

This  variety  of  expression  is  seen  to  some  ex- 
tent in  the  divine  child  she  holds,  and  which  may 
be  said  to  be  almost  the  only  worthy  picture  of 
the  infant  Redeemer,  the  chiefest  among  ten  thou- 
sand, and  the  one  altogether  lovely.  I  can  ac- 
count for  this  different  effect,  produced  at  differ- 
ent times  by  the  same  picture,  only  by  inferring 
that  a  different  feeling  is  expressed  in  different 
features — as  wonder  in  the  open  eye,  tender  sor- 
row in  the  curved  mouth.  And  yet  it  is  so  painted 
that  every  expression  blends  in  a  perfect  face; 
but  whatever  expression  you  first  catch  holds  you 
and  moves  you.  Study  seemed  to  confirm  the 
conjecture. 

The  art  of  the  Middle  Ages  distinguished  itself 
as  being  almost  exclusively  devoted  to  that  subject 
most  dear  to  the  human  heart — the  Incarnation. 


206  Sights  and  Insights. 

The  poet  could  not  send  his  thoughts  through 
the  printed  page  ;  the  singer's  song  died  when  his 
voice  became  silent.  So  the  poet  wrote  in  colors, 
and  the  singer  let  the  music  of  light  and  harmony 
of  proportion  utter  his  song.  So  written,  the 
untaught  peasant  and  the  little  child  could  read 
the  sweet  story  of  old. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  different  nations 
came  out  of  that  period  and  tendency  that  devoted 
all  art  to  illustrate  the  life  of  the  Son  of  God  in 
the  flesh. 

You  come  into  the  galleries  of  modern  paint- 
ers in  France,  and  you  find  that  the  frenzy  of  the 
Revolution  and  the  madness  of  infidelity  have'  del- 
uged the  fields  of  art  with  blood  at  Versailles,  and 
with  every  constrained  attitude  and  maniacal  ex- 
pression of  frenzy  at  the  Luxembourg.  You  feel  at 
once  that  you  are  in  a  community  where  the  sweet 
joys  of  home  have  little  power,  where  the  holy 
comforts  of  religion  are  not  sought,  where  out- 
side show  is  preferred  to  inner  worth.  You  are 
sure  that  such  straining  after  effect  is  unnatural, 
and  leads  either  to  the  mad-house,  or  the  close 
chamber  and  a  fatal  brazier  of  charcoal. 

You  cross  the  channel,  half  weary  of  art,  tired 
of  so  many  acres  of  canvas,  half  questioning 
whether  you  will  pursue  the  subject  any  farther. 


Expression  by  Art.  207 

You  go  into  the  National,  and  the  Rojal  Acade- 
my as  a  matter  of  habit.  You  are  surprised.  A 
new  world  of  art  opens  at  once.  Here  are  beauti- 
ful landscapes,  and  you  have  seen  hardly  one  on 
the  whole  Continent.  A  very  few  of  Claude  Lo- 
raine,  two  or  three  of  Poussin  and  Salvator  Rosa. 
Here  is  a  turning  to  nature.  In  Italy  homes  are 
dark  dens.  No  attempt  is  made  to  lighten  them. 
But  here  God's  beauties  are  brought  into  the 
house.  Therefore,  home  scenes  become  possible 
to  the  artist.  He  puts  them  on  the  canvas,  beau- 
tiful with  human  love.  Domestic  animals  are 
deemed  worthy  of  portraiture,  and  you  feel  your- 
self to  be  in  a  country  that  is  not  living  for  effect, 
but  is  quietly  enjoying  its  own  consciousness  of  in- 
ner worth.  It  is  turning  lovingly  to  those  beau- 
ties that  the  Lord  loved  in  Paradise. 

I  often  wonder  at  the  forceful  expressions  that 
these  flat  pictures,  and  cold,  colorless  marbles 
carry.  When  I  consider  the  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  such  expression  I  marvel  at  the  success  at- 
tained. Guido  had  been  for  a  long  time  laboring 
at  his  painting  of  the  Crucifixion.  He  had  a  man 
tied  to  a  cross  for  a  model.  He  could  easily  por- 
tray the  body  from  his  example.  But  how  could 
he  paint  a  dying  face  ?  In  a  wild  frenzy  he  caught 
a  knife    and   plunged  it  into  the   bosom    of  his 


208  Sights  and  Insights. 

model.  He  then  caught  the  shadows  as  they  fell 
over  the  face  from  the  dark  valley,  and  laid  them 
on  the  canvas. 

I  was  anxious  to  see  the  work  of  an  artist  who 
hesitated  at  no  price,  not  even  that  of  murdej,  so 
that  he  might  find  true  and  forceful  expression. 

It  was  as  might  have  been  expected — a  face 
more  full  of  fear  than  of  love.  It  had  more  of  the 
dying  culprit  a  Jew  might  desire  to  see,  than  the 
conquering  Lord  a  Christian  might  adore.  True 
success  cannot  be  purchased  by  crime,  not  even 
in  low  departments,  much  less  in  the  high. 

The  difficulties  out  of  which  art  wrings  its  suc- 
cess are  so  numerous  and  great  that  we  wonder  at 
the  measure  of  that  success. 

Man  has  various  ways  of  making  the  fleeting 
conceptions  of  his  soul  permanent.  So  has  God. 
Men  most  naturally  embody  the  soul's  action  in 
words ;  God,  in  worlds.  Man  arranges  his  form- 
less conceptions  into  relations  to  each  other 
through  long  series  of  bodiless  evolutions,  and 
then  fixes  the  conclusion  by  means  of  a  written 
page,  a  picture,  a  statue,  or  a  machine.  God  em- 
bodies his,  in  pictures  wide  as  the  valleys,  high  as 
the  mountains,  beautiful  as  the  flowers  ;  in  statues 
capable  of  motion,  and  showing  a  thousand  vary- 
ing feelings.     The  relation  of  the  page,  picture, 


*  Expression  hy  Art  209 

statue,  or  machine  to  the  mind  that  produced  it 
is  intricate  and  difficult  of  apprehension.  To  read 
back  from  the  embodied  expression  to  the  mind 
is  never  done  by  all,  never  perfectly  done  by  any. 
The  relation  of  the  creation  to  the  Creator  is  feebly 
apprehended.  God  had  higher  thoughts  and 
deeper  feelings  in  creating  than  any  creature  has  in 
beholding.  We  never  know  a  man  by  his  permanent 
material  expressions  ;  nor  God  by  his.  The  lov- 
ing wife  or  child  knows  the  artist  better  than  the 
student  of  his  paintings  and  statues  knows  him. 

We  have  only  inferior  materials  for  expression. 
Think  of  the  difficulty  of  making  cold  rock  ex- 
press the  joy  of  Eve  finding  herself  alive.  Material 
must  stand  for  immaterial.  The  rock  is  the  best 
expression  of  durableness,  but  it  disintegrates  right 
under  our  eye,  and  the  durableness  of  eternity  is 
unexpressed.  There  is  nothing  better  than  flowers 
and  rainbows  to  express  our  conceptions  of  color, 
nothing  better  than  air  and  its  liquid  flow  to  ex- 
press relations  of  harmony.  They  are  utterly  in- 
sufficient, even  for  our  present  conceptions.  We 
know  of  music  too  fine  for  air  to  be  its  medium. 
And,  concerning  God's  thought,  it  must  be  written, 
"  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  the  things  God 
hath  prepared  for  those  that  love  him."  Paul — 
caught   up    to    perceive    them— says   the    words 


210  Sights  and  Insights. 

were  unspeakable,  the  conceptions  not  possibly 
wordable. 

But  for  man's  expression  of  himself,  the  difficul- 
ties are  insuperable.  He  cannot  embody  his  feel- 
ings with  a  word,  and  emotions  are  very  transient 
and  fleeting.  Before  the  page  is  written  the  emo- 
tion is  gone  or  changed ;  much  more  before  the 
colors  are  mixed  and  laid,  the  clay  molded,  and 
the  marble  hewn.  And  the  very  charm  of  most 
emotions  lies  in  this  transitory  character.  There 
is  no  statue  equal  to  a  child,  no  picture  like  a  face. 
Every  man  has  a  better  gallery  of  art  in  his  chil- 
dren than  any  king  ever  gathered.  They  respond, 
for  a  moment,  to  feelings  as  flitting  as  the  dancing 
shadows  of  leaves,  as  bright  as  the  sunlight  that 
silvers  the  ripples  of  a  lake.  Art  cannot  touch 
this  class  of  feelings — for  this  flesh  is  living,  mo- 
bile as  air,  traversed  with  nerves  of  lightning 
quickness,  flushed  with  floods  of  varying  color. 
What  impossibility  to  make  marble  as  expressive, 
and  the  formless  dead  level  of  paint  as  full  of 
life  as  these  feelings  are ! 

And  if  we  could,  we  should  weary  of  the  un- 
changed expression  that  stone  or  canvas  must 
carry.  We  delight  in  progression — backward, 
rather  than  none  at  all.  We  want  to  see  action 
consummated.      We   cannot   abide    a    M'Clellan 


Expression  by  Art.  211 

policy.  We  cry  out  in  torment  at  the  steady  drone 
of  any  note  of  an  organ;  we  are  in  raptures  when 
its  various  notes  combine  in  linked  sweetness,  or 
ascend  the  steps  of  power. 

Art  is  shut  up  to  a  narrow  range  of  emotions. 
The  jolliest  man  would  not  be  painted  laughing. 
Even  Rembrandt's  portrait  of  himself,  with  his 
wife  on  his  knee,  a  half-emptied  glass  in  his  hand, 
and  a  bacchanal  laugh  on  his  face,  clings  horribly 
to  the  memory,  and  makes  men  wish  that  artists 
would  not  attempt  to  make  perpetual  what  may 
be  pleasing  because  transient.  No  artist  would 
paint  positions  we  assume  at  every  step.  They 
would  be  declared  as  impossible  to  human  mech- 
anism as  the  position  of  the  left  foot  of  Horace 
Mann's  statue  before  the  Boston  State-House. 

Not  only  is  the  field  of  art  narrow,  but  the  diffi- 
culties in  that  field  are  insurmountable.  It  must 
embody  spiritual  with  material — make  tricksy 
Ariel  out  of  cast  iron.  It  must  put  into  perma- 
nent form  the  few  transient  emotions  it  does  ven- 
ture upon,  and  whose  chief  charm  lies  in  the  fact 
of  their  transitoriness.  But,  in  addition  to  these 
already  commented  on,  it  has  difficulties  in  its  own 
nature.  Paint  has  no  form,  and  sculpture  has  no 
color.  So  true  is  it  that  paint  has  no  form,  that 
in  many  departments  it  is  not  even  possible  to  im- 


212  Sights  and  Insights. 

itate  the  form  that  really  exists  in  nature.  The 
form  of  the  leaf,  maple,  pine,  oak,  cordate,  acerose, 
sinuate,  cannot  be  imitated  on  the  small  canvas 
on  which  we  condense  God's  wide  pictures.  The 
artist  must  find  larger  forms — as  trunks,  mode  of 
putting  out  limbs,  general  outline  of  the  whole 
tree,  or  masses  of  them — to  imitate.  And  since 
the  painter  has  no  forms,  he  seeks  to  atone  for  this 
lack  by  extravagances  of  color.  So  the  fairest 
faces  get  shades  that  Othello  the  Moor  could  not 
equal.  Rubens  covers  his  blowzy  women  with 
black  and  blue  spots,  as  if  their  husbands  prac- 
ticed the  German  habit  of  whipping  their  wives. 
He  makes  the  blood  seem  to  exude  from  every 
pore  of  the  face  of  one  who  is  struggling  to  erect 
the  cross.  Yet  these  extravagances  of  color  are 
not  offensive,  because  they  are  put  to  the  account 
of  form.  So  the  sculptor  puts  on  extravagances 
of  form  because  he  has  no  color.  No  man  would 
buy  a  bust  or  statue  that  had  a  natural  neck. 
Carved  from  measurements,  it  would  seem  so  frail 
and  slender  that  it  would  distress  one  with  fear 
for  the  safety  of  the  head.  Accustomed  to  see  it 
dressed,  as  in  man,  or  shaded  with  massy  hair,  as 
in  woman,  we  must  have  it  larger  than  nature  to 
seem  natural.  And  though  no  man  covets  for  his 
own,  and  no  woman  likes  to  see  on  another — except 


Expression  by  Art.  213 

a  rival — a  large  neck,  yet  when  the  form  petrifies 
into  marble,  this  feature,  rightly  managed,  is  only 
suggestive  of  abundant  channels  to  carry  food  and 
fire  to  the  brain.  It  tells  of  intellectual,  not  ani- 
mal, power. 

Sculpture  heaps  muscle  on  Hercules  hurling 
Lycias  from  the  crag,  till  he  looks  as  if  he  might 
fling  him  a  thousand  miles.  It  is  no  excrescence, 
but  wonderfully  obviates  the  lack  of  color.  Sculpt- 
ure is  not  only  deprived  of  the  eye,  the  most  ex- 
pressive organ  of  the  soul,  but  is  actually  obliged 
to  accept  a  deformity  in  its  place.  This  deformity 
must  be  overcome,  and  this  lack  made  up  in  other 
ways.  It  seems  impossible.  Art  is  obliged  to 
force  into  its  service  for  expression  all  conceiv- 
able accessories.  The  charmed  lizard  that  is  list- 
ening on  the  stump,  where  the  shepherd-boy  sits 
playing  his  pipe  in  the  Boston  Library,  is  as  ex- 
pressive of  the  power  of  his  music  as  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  lad's  face.  Our  Rogers  is  unequaled 
in  seizing  on  the  little,  often-unnoticed  things  of 
life,  to  make  them  tell  their  story.  The  broken 
basket  and  shredded  pants  tell  of  poverty.  And 
the  whole  African  nature  bursts  upon  us,  as  the 
aged  man  learns  to  read  of  a  child  in  the  midst  of 
his  work,  and   young   mischief  cannot  forbear  to 

neglect  his  lesson  to  tickle  the  old  man's  foot. 

14 


214  Sights  and  Insights. 

Yet  accessories  would  be  of  no  avail  did  not 
every  stroke  of  the  chisel,  and  every  pass  of  the 
pencil,  in  every  part  of  the  work,  leave  its  touch 
of  power.  To  place  these  touches  of  power,  and 
to  discover  them  when  made,  requires  and  cul- 
tures a  nicety  of  observation,  and  a  delicacy  of 
perception,  that  constitutes  one  of  the  chief  values 
of  art. 

But  the  value  of  victory  is  proportioned  to  the 
difficulty  of  its  achievement.  When  once  a  wor- 
thy emotion  has  had  force  enough  in  the  soul  of 
the  artist  to  make  the  solid  marble  all  alive  with 
it,  then  it  stands,  age  after  age,  to  stir  that  worthy 
feeling  in  the  breasts  of  others. 


XXVII. 

PUTTING  A  VOLCANO  UNDER  FOOT. 

JTF  T  is  just  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  am  not 
Qgi  accustomed  to  wake  so  early ;  but  Italy  has  an 
industrious  and  efficient  awakener.  I  have 
made  an  important  classical  discovery;  not,  in- 
deed, how  Monte  Testaccio  at  Rome  came  to  be 
made  of  broken  pottery ;  not  the  site  of  Troy, 
but  the  nature  of  the  shirt  that  Nessus  sent  to 
Hercules.  I  understood  perfectly  how  it  drove 
Hercules  mad ;  how  he  tore  off  his  flesh  to  get  rid 
of  its  effects  ;  how  he  was  finally  consumed  in 
fire.  Nessus  sent  him  a  woolen  shirt  full  of 
fleas.     It  perfectly  meets  all  the  conditions. 

I  went  up  Vesuvius  four  years  ago.  I  went  up 
yesterday,  and  would  be  glad  to  go  up  to-day.  It 
is  counted  a  hardship ;  it  is  a  triumph.  Titus 
never  felt  so  grand,  entering  Rome  with  chained 
and  captive  thousands  at  his  heels,  and  yellow 
Tiber  trembling  in  its  banks  by  the  replica- 
tion of  the  shouts  of  all  the  city.  I  had  climbed 
to  a  higher  throne.  No  one  ever  sees  this  world 
rightly  till  he   gets  above   it.     House    lots   look 


2 1 6  Sights  and  Insights. 

small,  and  the  soul,  losing  all  thought  of  moiling  to 
get  them,  rises,  soars,  feasts,  and  lives  in  the  broad 
realm  that  God  made  infinite  in  order  to  give  it 
room. 

We  left  Naples  early ;  drove  through  some  of  the 
most  miserable  scenes  this  miserable  world  can 
show.  Blind  beggars  ran  along  by  the  carriage  for 
rods.  Masses  of  rags,  that  only  seemed  moved 
by  the  vermin  in  them,  limped  along  the  road  with 
an  unearthly  whine  for  money.  A  slight  elevation 
enabled  twenty  to  gather  round  the  carriage.  I 
never  so  longed  for  a  good  rawhide.  If  I  had  pos- 
sessed one,  no  Neapolitan  beggar  would  have 
questioned  my  generosity.  When  we  came  to  the 
place  to  buy  sticks  or  canes  there  rose  round  us  a 
forest.  And  when  we  had  bought  what  we  wanted 
there  rose  one  universal  howl  that  we  had  paid 
the  wrong  parties.  I  should  suppose  that  our  five 
sticks  belonged  to  about  twenty  different  parties, 
and  no  one  had  got  his  pay. 

In  three  hours  we  reached  the  Hermitage,  where 
the  Government  has  established  an  observatory  to 
watch  the  proceedings  of  the  volcano.  Its  erup- 
tions are  so  connected  with  electricity  that  the 
volcano  foretells  its  own  internal  disturbance,  by 
the  operations  of  the  magnetic  needle,  long  before 
it  gives  any  signal  to  sight  or  ear.     We  scrambled 


Putting  a  Volcano  under  Foot.  217 

over  fields  of  lava  for  three  quarters  of  an  hour  to 
the  base  of  the  cone,  where  the  real  labor  of  the 
ascent  commenced. 

Originally  there  was  neither  volcano  nor  eleva- 
tion here.  It  was  a  smiling  tract  of  level  land  as 
ever  the  ardent  sun  kissed  into  blushes  of  flowers. 
Then  came  the  underground  upheaval.  A  fissure 
opened  east  and  west.  The  compacted  strata  of 
the  lower  world  were  revealed.  They  rose  higher 
and  higher,  and  the  wound  gaped  open  a  mile  wide. 
Then  the  seething  lava  followed,  cooling  in  the 
fissures,  damming  all  the  outlets,  and  remaining  a 
lake  of  fire,  with  its  northern  shore  somewhat 
higher  than  the  southern.  Occasional  overflows 
took  place,  and  a  long  stream  of  liquid  rock  took 
its  way  to  the  plain.  Of  course  the  surface  of  the 
lake  would  cool,  except  at  a  few  points  where  the 
internal  forces  demanded  outlet.  Here,  bubbling 
and  boiling,  they  spluttered  their  red  hot  wrath 
over  the  edge,  and  a  kind  of  circular  rim  rose 
round  every  hole.  Thus  several  large  cones  or 
little  mountains  rose  on  the  treacherous  surface 
of  the  cooled  lake.  When  great  ebullitions  oc- 
curred, these  few  vent-holes  would  not  be  found 
enough,  and  one  of  these  little  mountains  would 
be  torn  out  by  the  roots,  and  hurled  upon,  or  over, 
the  others. 


218  Sights  and  Insights. 

In  process  of  time  these  various  cones,  with  a 
core  of  fire,  encroached  on  each  other,  making  one 
great  cone,  with  particular  liability  to  smoke  and 
erupt  through  the  old  vents.  That  is  just  what 
has  happened.  It  is  as  easy  to  read  from  the 
mountain  record  as  from  a  book.  A  picture  of 
Vesuvius,  made  about  the  time  of  Christ,  has  been 
recently  discovered  at  Pompeii,  and  there  is  no 
central  cone  to  the  mountain.  It  is  no  higher  than 
the  lips  of  the  old  wound,  or  the  wrathful  edges  of 
the  old  broken  boil. 

This  cone  is  now  one  thousand  feet  high,  and 
has  a  base  of  about  a  mile.  It  was  this  we  now 
essayed  to  climb.  It  is  composed  of  lava  and 
ashes,  which  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  They 
only  differ  as  sand  and  sandstone.  Where  you 
found  footing  on  the  scraggy  lava  it  was  only  a 
question  of  muscle  to  mount ;  but  where  you 
trod  in  ashes,  and  got  up  one  step  and  slipped  back 
two,  it  was  a  question  of  temper  as  well.  Another 
element  entered  into  the  problem  of  temper.  The 
mountain  swarmed  with  men  and  boys,  all  anxious 
to  help  you — one  with  a  strap  to  pull  before,  and 
another  to  boost  behind.  They  all  seem  to  think 
that  the  principle  that  led  the  girl  to  marry  a  fel- 
low to  be  rid  of  him  inheres  in  all  human  nature, 
especially  in  woman's.     It  did  not  in  our  ladies. 


Putting  a  Volcano  under  Foot.  219 

It  is  three  fourths  of  an  hour's  tough  scramble. 
Going  up  stairs  two  at  a  jump  would  be  rest  com- 
pared to  it. 

But  we  leave  the  nuisances  below.  We  go  up ; 
yes,  up  to  God.  Such  things  do  not  follow  thither. 
We  look  down  on  craters  of  former  years — for  the 
lava  seldom  or  never  overflows  this  high  summit. 
It  breaks  out  a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  mountain  at 
the  foot  of  the  cone.  Here  we  can  mark  the  ex- 
tent and  meandering  of  the  overflow  of  every 
blackened  stream.  You  can  often  determine  the 
age  of  the  overflow  on  a  given  number  of  acres  in 
the  plain  below  by  the  amount  of  verdure  that  has 
come  to  cover  its  nakedness. 

The  mountain  feels  hot  to  your  feet.  Turn  over  a 
small  mass  of  lava  anywhere  and  smoke  immedi- 
ately rushes  out. 

We  pass  various  places  still  smoking,  to  show 
where  there  were  cores  of  former  cones.  Yes,  we 
pass ;  for,  like  the  Irishman  trying  to  kiss  his  be- 
loved, we  are  anxious  to  get  at  the  crater's  mouth. 
We  succeed,  as  I  trust  he  did. 

On  the  very  edge  of  this  hole  the  rocks  are  so 
hot  that  putting  our  sticks  into  crevices  not  two 
feet  deep,  they  burst  into  flame.  But  the  aw- 
fully torn,  rent,  seamed,  bottomless  abyss,  smoking 
in  every  fissure,  groaning  with  a  crush  of  heaved 


220  Sights  and  Insights. 

boulders,  canopied  with  sulphurous  smoke,  can- 
not be  described.  We  walked  round  the  thin  edge. 
It  sloped  inward  and  outward  about  equally,  and 
in  some  places  was  as  sharp  as  the  ridge  of  a  steep- 
roofed  house.  When  the  wind  drove  the  smoke 
toward  us  we  went  down  with  our  noses  in  the  hot 
ashes,  for  the  sulphurous  fumes  could  not  be 
breathed.  Then  when  the  wind  blew  it  from  us 
we  would  spring  up  to  gaze  into  the  awful  depth 
of  the  fiery  mountain. 

We  overlooked  the  crater  of  last  year.  It  is  on 
the  north  side,  and  is  still  groaning  with  unquieted 
turmoil.  When  the  descending  stream  reached  the 
plain  it  divided,  to  spare  a  peasant's  little  house, 
but  closed  again  beyond  it,  leaving  the  saved  house 
on  a  small  green  island  in  an  ocean  of  fire.  The 
cooled  billows  of  lava  are  almost  frightful  to  look 
at.  The  projecting  ridges  of  the  pushed  mass,  first 
cooled,  and  then  pushed  on  again,  overlaying  and 
crowding  one  another,  assumed  all  conceivable 
shapes  ;  and  it  requires  some  matter-of-factness  not 
to  feel  that  it  is  a  black  mass  of  horrid  forms  of 
living  things,  writhing  in  unutterable  pain  and  ter- 
ror. Here  is  the  form  of  a  man  with  head  and  feet 
buried  under  a  knot  of  serpents,  there  the  hind- 
quarters of  a  horse,  and  every-where  demoniac 
forms  that  startle  with  their  writhed  expressions. 


Putting  a  Volcano  under  Foot.         221 

The  view  from  the  top  is  of  surpassing  beauty. 
Conceive  of  the  lovely  bay  on  one  side,  blue  as  the 
air,  and  so  shaded  by  the  floating  shadows  of  the 
floating  islands  in  the  sky,  so  shimmering  in  the 
sunshine,  and  so  variegated  with  color,  that  you 
absolutely  cannot  tell  which  is  water  and  which  is 
air;  conceive  of  the  snow-crowned  Apennines  on 
the  other  side,  not  looking  in  the  least  like  mount- 
ains of  earth,  but  like  a  real  glimpse  of  the  glory 
of  the  other  world ;  imagine  the  beauty  of  green 
field  and  shining  houses  filling  all  between,  and 
yourself  not  so  much  upheld  as  floating  above 
the  picture,  and  imagination  paints  what  pen  can- 
not describe. 

From  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  is  but  a 
step.  Nothing  could  be  more  ridiculous  than  the 
coming  down.  We  choose  a  place  where  there  is 
no  hard  lava,  only  soft  ashes.  Every  step  is  a  leap 
of  twenty  feet.  A  man  does  not  look  human.  He 
is  simply  a  confused  blur  of  arms  and  legs  attached 
to  a  hub.  He  may  look  like  a  falling  angel — I  don't 
know.  He  sinks  mid-leg  deep  in  the  soft  ashes  at 
every  step.  And  when  he  fails  to  extricate  a  leg 
in  time,  and  spreads  himself  head  foremost  down 
the  steep  decline,  he  singularly  resembles  a  gigan- 
tic flying  squirrel.  When  he  gets  up  he  looks  like 
one  of  Vulcan's  coal  boys  just  out  of  the  heart  of 


222  Sights  a,7id  Insights, 

the  mountain.     He  comes  down  in  three  minutes 
the  distance  it  took  him  forty  to  go  up. 

For  a  few  days  we  have  lingered  here  in  the 
Old  World,  investigating  the  wasted  ruins  of  the 
works  of  Roman  emperors  before  and  in  the  times 
of  Christ ;  also  exploring  sites  of  towns  that 
Greece  planted,  and  which  were  in  decay  before 
Rome  had  even  a  name.  Let  us  give  a  little  time 
to  Greece  itself,  and  then  turn  our  faces  *to  a  land 
that  was  old  before  Greece  was  born. 


XXVIII. 

POSSIBILITIES  AND  ACTUALITIES  OF 
ATHENS. 

tSp)ENTELICUS  was  full  of  nymphs,  graces, 
jlfif  gods,  and  goddesses,  all  prisoned  in  its  snowy- 
marble.  Phidias  and  Praxiteles  came  with 
hammer  and  chisel  to  break  away  the  fetters  and 
bid  them  stand  forth  in  their  beauty.  Acropolis 
was  a  vast  throne  of  acres,  lifted  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  plain,  on  which  these  gods  might  sit,  and 
stand ;  a  glorious  pyramid  of  grace.  The  Attic 
plain  was  rich  in  soil,  gorgeous  with  flowers,  fra- 
grant with  thyme,  drowsy  with  the  hum  of  bees, 
shimmering  with  the  meandering  streams,  melliflu- 
ous with  the  names  of  Ilissus  and  Cephisus. 
Attic  aborigines  were  great,  strong,  docile  men,  who 
laid  gigantic  Pelasgic  constructions  of  mighty 
stones  that  endure  to  this  day ;  so  docile  that  they 
welcomed  teachers  from  a  foreign  land ;  so  imagi- 
native that  they  filled  earth,  sea,  and  air  with  liv- 
ing creations ;  so  devout  that  they  reverently  wor- 
shiped all  known  gods  with  a  fervor  and  self- 
sacrifice   that  ought   to  shame  us,  and  still  had 


224  Sights  and  Insights. 

reverence  for  those  unknown ;  so  full  of  hardihood 
that  Solon  and  Lycurgiis,  preaching  and  ordaining 
austerity  as  means  of  physical  victory,  were  at 
first  more  welcomed  and  followed  than  Alcibiades 
setting  an  example  of  luxury ;  so  surrounded  by 
rival  States,  as  to  call  out  all  possible  peaceful 
energy  ;  so  assaulted  by  foreign  foes,  as  to  summon 
to  the  last  possible  strain  every  fiber  of  power  to 
contend  for  very  life ;  possessed  of  unheard  of 
liberty  for  centuries ;  fired  by  the  grandest  elo- 
quence known  to  the  race ;  accustomed  to  a  con- 
stant consideration  of  all  questions  of  public 
policy ;  and,  finally,  highest  possibility  of  all,  re- 
ceiving the  offer  of  the  glorious  Gospel  of  Jesus  by 
the  very  lips  of  the  grandest  apostle.  These 
were  the  elements  of  success  for  Athens,  the  pos- 
sibilities that  waited  for  its  possession.  What 
were  the  actualities  ? 

Sculptors  waved  their  wands,  and  the  multitu- 
dinous gods  marched  from  Pentelicus  to  Athens. 
Columns  and  capitals,  friezes  and  foundations,  al- 
tars and  temples,  came  in  such  numbers,  and  of 
such  grand  proportions,  that  we  almost  cease  to 
count  it  fable  that  they  were  drawn  by  Apollo's 
lute.  Men  endured  hardness  as  good  soldiers ; 
grew  to  sublime  manhood  ;  counted  their  lives  not 
dear  unto  themselves;    despised  death;  went  to 


Athens.  225 

battle  as  to  a  feast ;  never  counted  their  tens  nor 
the    opposing   thousands,  but  only  asked  if  their 
death  then  and  there  could  best  serve  the  State  ; 
gave  up  their  homes  to  the  enemy  that  they  might 
defeat  him  on  the   sea ;  erecting  such  a  State  that 
its  very  ruins,  after  two   thousand  years,  are  an 
amazement   and  a  study   for  us  to-day.     Let  us 
glance  at  them  :    There  is  the  Temple  of  Theseus, 
composed  of  thirty-six  columns,   so  perfect  that 
twenty-five  years  ago  it  was  the  most  perfect  build- 
ing in  Athens.     On  the  western  brow  of  the  Acrop- 
olis stands  the  gate  and  its  adjuncts,  compared  to 
which  the  famous  Brandenburg  gate  at  Berlin  is 
nothing.      Beside    it    stands    the    charming   little 
Temple    of  Victory,    from   whom    they  took   the 
wings,  hoping  that  she  would  never  fly  away.     In- 
side the  gate,  and  just  at  the  left,  stood  the  statue 
of   Minerva,    fifty-five    feet    high,   on   a    pedestal 
twenty  feet  high  ;    her  gilded  casque   and  spear- 
point  the  beacon  of  the  Attic  sailors  as  they  came 
home  to  Minerva's   city.     A   little   farther  to  the 
east,  the  Erectheum — a  temple  over  the  spot  where 
Neptune  struck  his  trident  into  the  solid  rock  and 
caused  it  to  gush  with  water  to  this  day,  and  where 
Minerva  planted  the  olive,  so  dear  and  profitable 
to  the  people,  and  where  both  the  gods  were  wor- 
shiped.    This   temple  is  of  the  finest  workman- 


226  Sights  and  Insights. 

ship  ;  its  moldings  exquisite  as  Mechlin  lace ;  its 
capitals  graved  with  as  much  care  as  the  outlines 
of  a  portrait  or  bust.  Immediately  south  of  this 
stands  the  wreck  of  the  noble  Parthenon — the 
Temple  of  Minerva.  Its  platform,  raised  four 
hundred  feet  above  the  city,  is  two  hundred  and 
ninety-three  by  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  feet. 
On  this  are  erected  forty-seven  columns,  thirty- 
seven  feet  high  and  six  and  a  half  feet  in  diame- 
ter. These  are  surmounted  by  a  frieze,  sculptured 
with  the  magnificent  representations  of  the  great 
Panathenaic  procession ;  of  the  exploits  of  Her- 
cules, Theseus,  and  the  contests  of  the  Centaurs 
with  the  Lapithae.  Inside  the  columns  is  a  corri- 
dor eight  feet  wide,  and  then  the  walls  of  the  tem- 
ple. Within  this  was  another  statue  of  Minerva, 
so  magnificent  that  the  statue  of  Victory,  which 
she  held  as  a  scepter  in  her  hand,  was  six  feet 
high.  This  building  remained  almost  complete 
nearly  two  thousand  years  till  ruthlessly  destroyed 
by  man.  But  after  six  thousand  cannon-balls 
have  been  rained  upon  it,  and  a  magazine  of  pow- 
der exploded  within  it,  the  monument  of  beauty 
is  the  world's  wonder  to-day. 

As  I  walked  through  its  immensity,  and  along 
its  silent  corridors  in  the  darkness,  it  seemed  like 
a  mammoth  skeleton — the  bleaching,  broken  bones 


Athens.  227 

of  a  gigantic  life — from  which  the  soul  had  fled. 
What  intensity  of  life  it  took  to  rear  these  struct- 
ures !  What  a  religious  fervor  it  speaks  that  they 
were  reared  to  an  imaginary  goddess !  But  soon 
the  moon  looked  over  Hymettus.  Its  light  seemed 
to  bring  back  the  departed  life.  The  adytum  was 
no  longer  empty.  Broken  columns  took  the  forms 
of  statues.  Strange  shadows  seemed  like  living 
forms.  Themistocles,  Pericles,  Lycurgus,  Demos- 
thenes, Plato,  Euripides,  and  Leonidas,  seemed 
walking  there.  The  great  Panathenaic  procession 
came  down  from  the  friezes,  and  with  horses, 
chariots,  banners,  and  victims  garlanded  for  sacri- 
fice, swept  in  at  the  western  Propylsea,  through  the 
grove  of  statues  and  votive  offerings,  to  the  east- 
ern end,  wheeled,  and  came  into  the  magnificent 
temple,  and  did  homage  to  the  august  Athene. 

But  still  the  idea  would  return  that  it  was  a  ruin. 
As  I  went  down  the  hill  by  the  ruined  Odeum  of 
Regilla,  ,J)y  the  marble-seated  theater,  with  its  in- 
scribed seats  reserved  for  the  priests,  to  the  Tem- 
ple of  Zeus  Olympius — of  whose  one  hundred  and 
twenty-six  columns,  seventy-five  feet  high,  and 
seven  and  a  half  feet  in  diameter,  covering  an  area 
of  four  hundred  by  one  hundred  and  ninety-seven 
feet,  only  sixteen  columns  yet  remain  standing — 
ruin,  ruin  stared  me  in  the  face.     I  could  but  ask 


228  Sights  and  Insights. 

myself,  Why  ?  With  so  many  elements  of  success, 
so  many  principles  of  stability,  such  unequaled 
success,  why  ruin  ?  Is  the  race  to  rise  high  only 
to  fall  more  utterly  ?  Is  there  no  continued  prog- 
ress, no  assured  perpetuity  for  progress  made  ? 

It  occurred  to  me  that  Greece  had  too  narrow 
an  ambition,  too  low  an  ideal,  too  limited  an  in- 
spiration. They  strove  only  for  Athens'  liberty, 
not  for  man's.  Their  ideal  was  finite  beauty,  as 
embodied  in  the  human  form.  It  could  inspire  a 
,  Phidias,  but  it  had  no  element  of  infinity  about  it. 
It  could  not  carry  them  through  an  infinite  series 
of  progressions.  It  could  wonderfully  advance 
the  race,  lift  it  to  a  height  never  before  attained ; 
but  it  lacked  power  to  rise  above  the  earth. 

What  it  lacked,  Paul  came  and  offered  them ; 
offered  an  inspiration  that  had  no  limit ;  an  ideal 
so  high,  that  man  may  ceaselessly  rise  and  not  ex- 
ceed it ;  an  ambition  wide  as  the  race,  and  that 
destroys  all  enemies  by  loving  them  into  friends. 
This  seems  to  me  the  only  element  lacking  to 
Grecian  progress  without  limit,  and  stability  be- 
yond peril.  In  this  view,  lowly  Areopagus  rises 
above  sublime  Acropolis,  humble  Paul  above  the 
divine  Plato.  How  often  did  I  stand,  amid  the 
fading  glories  of  an  Athenian  snnset  and  the  gath- 
ering shades  of  darkness,  so  fitting  to  the  ruins  of 


Athens.  229 

such  a  State,  on  that  rocky  summit  where  Paul 
preached,  and  think  of  the  results  of  an  accepted 
Christianity  added  to  a  Grecian  culture !  I  really 
believe  there  would  have  been  no  descending  sun, 
no  dark  night  of  ages.  Culture  would  have  been 
complemented  by  grace,  human  power  aided  by 
divine,  and  narrow  human  knowledge  widened, 
heightened,  and  made  perfect  by  God's. 

It  is  not  too  late  yet.  Pentelicus  is  as  full  of 
graces  as  ever — every  element  of  success  as  effi- 
cient as  when  Marathon  was  made  immortal.  For- 
tunately, Paul's  doctrine  is  accepted  now.  God  is 
not  ignorantly  but  intelligently  worshiped.  It  was 
a  joy  to  hear  little  children  singing,  in  the  accents 
of  Demosthenes,  to  "  Our  Father,  God,"  and  not 
to  Zeus  and  Pan.  Even  the  Greek  Church  has 
freed  itself  from  the  debasing  superstitions  that 
cripple  it  elsewhere,  and  is  a  Church  of  spiritual 
power.  Looking  for  the  real  and  highest  glories 
of  Greece,  I  turned  away  from  its  ruins  to  its 
churches  and  rising  university ;  from  its  old,  nar- 
row liberty  for  self  and  slavery  for  the  world,  to 
its  new,  broad  idea  of  universal  freedom  ;  from  its 
past,  to  its  future ;  from  its  old,  vanished  Athene 
to  its  present  God.  The  grandest  actualities  of 
Greece  are  in  the  present  and  future. 

Philosophy  declares  that  no  nation  thoroughly 

15 


230  Sights  and  Insights. 

demoralized  can  ever  rise  again  by  its  own  inherent 
energy ;  and,  unless  help  comes  to  it  from  with- 
out, it  must  continue  in  its  degradation,  or  more 
likely  perish  utterly.  History  stands  by  and  points 
to  Nineveh,  Babylon,  Egypt,  as  examples  in  proof. 
But  help  has  come  from  without  to  Greece.  Amer- 
ica has  sent  the  same  Gospel  that  Paul  brought. 
Under  its  benign  influence,  stimulated  by  its  di- 
vine power,  Athens  has  advanced  more  in  forty 
years  past  than  in  four  centuries  previous.  The 
young  king  sits  in  his  palace  pleased  with  pros- 
perity. But  the  one  who  has  accomplished  it  is 
the  King  of  kings,  through  his  minister,  Dr.  Hill, 
missionary  from  America. 


XXIX. 

EGYPT. 

OUTH  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea  lies  a  vast 
desert,  three  thousand  miles  long  and  one 
thousand  miles  wide,  nearly  as  large  as  the 
United  States.  Mythology  informs  us  how  it 
became  a  desert.  Phaethon,  the  Young  America 
of  his  day,  extorted,  by  the  aid  of  his  doting 
mother,  permission  of  his  father  Apollo  to  drive 
the  chariot  of  the  sun  for  just  once.  Anxious  to 
show  off  his  team  and  himself,  he  lashed  the  fire- 
breathing  horses  into  an  ungovernable  speed. 
They  broke  away  from  the  regular  road,  ran  over 
all  that  tract  of  the  heavens  we  call  The  Milky 
Way,  leaving  such  sparks  along  the  road  as  glow 
there  yet.  Then  they  came  down  to  earth,  and 
ran  over  the  north  end  of  Africa,  burning  up  all 
the  soil  in  the  region  now  called  the  desert,  and 
making  such  heat  that  the  inhabitants  are  black 
to  this  day.  And  had  not  Jupiter  knocked  the 
young  man  into  the  river  Eridanus  with  a  well- 
aimed  thunderbolt,  and  restored  the  sun  to  his 


232  Sights  and  Insights. 

proper  course,  there  would  never  have  been  any- 
more young  men  to  take  warning  from  his  fate. 

Into  this  realm  of  death  has  been  thrust  a  wedge- 
like area  of  life.  It  is  somewhat  blunt  for  the  first 
hundred  miles ;  extremely  slim  and  tapering  the 
rest  of  the  way.  Down  this  long  furrow  comes  the 
mysterious  river  Nile.  It  is  the  river  of  life  to  the 
country.  It  flows  from  the  thrones  of  monarch 
mountains  far  away. 

On  your  way  to  visit  Egypt  you  stop  at  Rome, 
and  are  amazed  at  the  evidences  of  antiquity  that 
are  exhumed  from  the  teeming  soil.  But  when 
they  show  you  the  oldest  thing  in  Rome,  it  is  an 
obelisk  taken  from  Egypt  after  its  decline.  You 
pass  on  to  Greece,  whose  sun  had  passed  its  zenith 
before  Rome  rose,  and  delving  in  the  beginning  of 
its  literature,  you  are  carried  away  to  older  Phoeni- 
cia. But  Egypt  had  a  developed  literature  before 
Phoenicia  had  a  name.  The  first  sign  of  life  after 
the  deluge  was  seen  on  the  Nile.  And  Thebes 
was  the  capital  of  a  great  kingdom  two  thou- 
sand seven  hundred  years  before  Christ — more 
than  a  thousand  years  before  the  Exode.  In  wis- 
dom Egypt  was  the  eye  of  the  world.  In  art  it 
exceeded  the  attainments  of  our  boasted  day. 
And  in  the  application  of  mechanical  forces,  and 
the  erection  of  great  structures,  we  have  much  to 


Egypt.  233 

learn  before  we  can  stand  beside  these  men  of 
three  thousand  years  ago. 

What  is  the  country  to-day  ?  When  you  enter 
the  harbor  at  Alexandria  you  perceive  that  it  has 
no  wharves  nor  docks.  You  are  landed  successfully 
if  you  keep  your  temper.  But  you  are  landed  into 
a  new  world.  Houses,  trees,  animals,  men,  are  all 
new.  Instead  of  your  sturdy  New  England  oaks, 
or  Southern  pines,  you  have  the  feathery  palm,  or 
the  banana  with  a  leaf  fifteen  feet  long  by  one 
and  a  half  wide.  You  see  men  clad  in  a  single 
garment  that  has  never  known  the  touch  of  scissors 
or  needle.  In  fact  it  is  one  straight  piece  of  cot- 
ton, that  serves  as  head-dress,  coat,  jacket,  and 
pants.  Of  course  such  a  dress  is  liable  to  become 
disarranged,  and,  to  see  a  man  making  his  toilet 
about  the  head  with  one  hand  and  holding  the 
dissolving  windings  of  the  lower  part  of  his  robe 
with  the  other  hand  as  he  runs  through  the  streets, 
is  decidedly  amusing.  The  first  step  toward  Beau 
Brummelism  is  to  take  a  long  strip  of  cloth,  fold  it 
across  the  middle,  cut  a  hole  through  the  folding 
for  the  head,  then  sew  the  sides  together,  except 
places  for  the  arms,  and  the  man  is  completely 
dressed. 

The  principal  mode  of  conveyance  is  by  don- 
keys.    And  a  most  admirable  mode  it  is.     They 


234  Sights  and  Insights. 

are  the  most  intelligent  beings  in  Egypt.  They 
tell  you  at  the  hotels,  that  if  you  wish  to  know  any 
thing,  never  ask  a  driver  of  a  carriage,  but  a  don- 
key boy.  He  knows  every  thing.  I  inferred  that 
this  superior  intelligence  came  from  associating 
with  the  donkeys.  This  theory  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  when  these  boys  grow  up  and  cease  to  asso- 
ciate with  them,  they  fall  to  the  ordinary  low  level 
of  Egyptian  stupidity.  When  you  step  out  of  your 
hotel,  if  you  betray  a  moment's  indecision  in  re- 
gard to  your  choice  of  an  animal,  you  are  instantly 
surrounded  by  twenty.  Whether  by  the  impulse 
of  the  boys  or  the  original  suggestion  of  the  other 
animal  I  could  never  determine.  Every  nose  is 
within  twenty  inches  of  yours,  every  ear  within 
forty,  and  their  bodies  are  compactly  wedged  in 
just  behind  the  ears.  You  are  compelled  to  come 
to  a  decision  then,  or  remain  a  prisoner.  But 
such  is  the  entanglement,  you  never  know  whether 
you  have  mounted  the  one  chosen  or  some  other. 
Once  mounted,  however,  you  are  sure  of  being 
carried  gently  and  safely.  The  donkey  enjoys  a 
crowd.  He  chooses  the  densest  part  of  it  for  his 
passage.  Yes,  he  chooses,  and  your  choice  has 
nothing  to  do  with  his  goings.  Yet  he  never  treads 
on  a  baby,  runs  down  an  old  woman,  or  upsets  a 
market  basket.     His  delight  is  to  go  through  a 


Egypt.  235 

bazaar,  and  mine  to  go  with  him.  The  crowd  is 
a  pack  ;  the  street  not  over  six  feet  wide  ;  people 
are  pretending  to  trade  on  each  side  ;  dogs  and 
children  are  sleeping  in  the  middle  ;  men  are  using 
it  for  a  thoroughfare  from  one  side  of  the  city  to 
the  other ;  all  kinds  of  gay  colored  stuffs  and 
wooden  wares  are  suspended  over  the  street,  with- 
in hand  reach  of  the  walker,  and  head  reach  of 
the  rider,  and  a  camel  with  wide  paniers,  or  sacks 
full  of  very  hard  stones,  is  frequently  driven 
through  with  loud  shouts  for  men  to  take  care 
of  themselves. 

Into  this  entanglement  goes  the  donkey  like  the 
charge  of  the  six  hundred.  You  go  with  him  and 
with  a  feeling  quite  akin  to  the  chargers.  You 
soon  cease  to  exercise  any  surveillance  over  his 
movements,  for  you  discover  that  it  is  all  in  vain, 
and  you  have  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  your 
own.  But  out  of  all  he  brings  you  with  such  quiet 
persistence,  that,  in  your  admiration  of  him,  you 
want  to  take  him  as  yQur  traveling  companion  for 
the  rest  of  the  journey.  I  have  known  men  that 
weighed  two  hundred  to  become  so  enamored  with 
the  little  beast  as  to  say,  on  the  occasion  of  any 
future  ride,  "  Give  me  a  mule." 

In  one  respect  this  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able countries  in  the  world.     When  it  was  the  one 


236  Sights  and  Insights. 

kingdom  of  power  in  the  whole  world,  when  its  art 
flourished  most  successfully,  when  its  wisdom  was 
sought  by  all  the  wise  men,  when  it  was  rearing 
some  of  its  most  majestic  monuments  of  power, 
then  some  obscure  men  in  a  little  province  it  had 
held  in  subjection  began  to  foretell,  in  the  most 
minute  manner,  its  future  ruin. 

"  Destruction  cometh  out  of  the  North,"  said 
Jeremiah.  "  There  is  nothing  north  of  us,"  Egypt 
might  have  answered.  But  both  Nebuchadnezzar 
and  Cambyses  did  come  round  by  the  north,  and 
destroyed  them.  "  Memphis  shall  be  desolate  and 
waste,  without  an  inhabitant,"  he  went  on  to  say. 
And  Isaiah  added,  "  I  will  also  destroy  the  idols, 
and  cause  the  images  to  cease  out  of  Memphis." 
True  to  the  very  letter.  For  while  images  abound 
in  the  ruined  cities  of  Egypt,  as  Thebes  and  Kar- 
nak,  there  are  none  in  Memphis.  "  The  paper- 
reeds  by  the  brooks  shall  wither,  be  driven  away, 
and  be  no  more."  These  had  grown  for  thousands 
of  years.  But  at  the  word  of  prophecy  they  with- 
ered away.  "  The  scepter  of  Egypt  shall  depart 
away,"  said  Zachariah.  Ezekiel  added,  "There 
shall  be  no  more  a  prince  in  the  land  of  Egypt." 
And  for  twenty-three  centuries  this  word  has  been 
true.  Persian,  Macedonian,  Greek,  Roman,  Arab, 
and,  lastly,  Turkish  satraps  have  ruled  the  land, 


Egypt.  237 

but  no  prince  of  their  own.  Ezekiel  declared,  "  It 
shall  be  the  basest  of  kingdoms,  neither  shall  it 
exalt  itself  any  more  above  the  nations  :  they  shall 
no  more  rule  over  the  nations."  The  most  super- 
ficial observer  must  confess  the  word  fulfilled. 
Living  in  mud  dens,  almost  without  clothes,  loath- 
some with  disease,  deprived  of  the  right  to  hold 
property,  bowed  down  under  the  yoke  of  the  mean- 
est nation  that  lives,  cursed  with  polygamy,  they 
fester  out  a  miserable  existence  that  may  be  truly 
called  the  basest.  Old  Egypt  held  powerful  na- 
tions as  slaves.  New  Egypt  is  itself  a  slave  to  the 
most  contemptible  of  nations.  The  eye  that  sees 
the  end  from  the  beginning  foresaw  to  what  such 
beginnings  must  come. 

The  railroads  and  canals  that  commerce  has 
made  over  the  land  that  lies  in  its  path  may  mean 
something  for  the  land  of  Egypt,  but  nothing  for 
Egyptians. 

If  there  is  any  prophecy  against  me  or  my  land, 
or  any  condition  into  which  either  may  come,  I 
am  sure  of  its  coming  to  pass,  unless  it  be  turned 
away,  as  Nineveh  turned  away  that  of  Jonah. 


XXX. 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS   OF   PALESTINE. 

tHAVE  been  to-day  eleven  hours  in  the  sad- 
dle, on  the  roughest  road  in  Palestine,  on  such 
an  abominably  slow  walker,  that  I  had  to  urge 
him  into  a  trot  by  every  possible  means  on  every 
possible  rod.  My  most  prominent  impression, 
therefore,  is,  that  I  have  thighs,  loins,  etc.,  of 
which  I  was  never  so  specially  conscious  before. 
I  presume  I  shall  not  be  anxious  to  sit  much  to- 
morrow. 

My  first  impression  of  Palestine  came  through 
a  six-inch  port-hole  with  the  early  morning  light 
of  yesterday.  I  was  soon  on  deck.  The  sea  was 
very  rough,  and  the  breakers  on  the  outside  rocks 
of  Jaffa  didfrot  look  inviting.  Here  began  Jonah's 
rough  time  when  he  tried  to  flee  from  duty.  It  is 
easier  to  go  to  Nineveh  than  Tarshish  any  time. 
We  were  soon  in  boats,  and  riding  the  rough  sea, 
toward  an  opening  in  the  rocks  not  more  than 
three  times  the  width  of  our  craft.  Having  cleared 
them,  we  saw  the  shore  swarming  with  naked- 
legged   Arabs,  anxious   to   carry  us   ashore;  but 


First  Impressions  of  Palestine.         239 

after  a  ten  minutes'  battle  with  the  boatman,  con- 
ducted with  vociferous  demands  for  his  money  on 
one  part,  and  a  masterly  inactivity  on  the  other, 
we  compelled  him  to  land  us  upon  the  pier.  Then 
bedlam  broke  loose.  I  have  an  impression  that 
the  people  of  Jaffa  are  the  most  ill-smelling  on 
the  face  of  the  earth ;  that  if  they  would  show  a 
tithe  of  energy  in  any  legitimate  industry  that  they 
do  to  secure  a  few  cents  for  carrying  luggage,  they 
would  be  the  most  prosperous  people  on  the  globe  ; 
that  the  women  are  the  most  repulsive  of  their 
sex,  (I  was  constantly  grateful  for  the  mercy  to 
others  that  led  them  to  vail  their  faces;)  and  that 
the  children  utter  "  backsheesh  "  with  their  first 
infant  breath,  pour  out  their  expiring  groan  in 
those  syllables,  and  utter  the  most  of  their  breaths 
between  with  the  same  vocables.  Jaffa  makes 
much  soap,  but  never  uses  any ;  grows  the  finest 
oranges  in  the  world,  but  eats  mostly  onions. 

The  orange  orchards  about  Jaffa  are  a  revelation. 
I  wandered  in  them  a  long  time.  The  air  was  in- 
toxicating with  the  rare  odor  of  myriads  of  blos- 
soms. A  thousand  brides  might  be  crowned  and 
covered  with  their  entrancing  beauty.  Many 
branches  trailed  to  the  ground  with  burdens  of 
ripe  fruit.  We  were  invited  to  pluck  and  eat  all 
we  wished.     How  I    regretted   having   bought  a 


240  Sights  and  Insights. 

dozen  of  the  hugest  kind  (for  six  cents)  before 
I  came  in.  We  brought  away  trophies ;  one  was 
fourteen  and  a  half  inches  girth. 

We  rode  out  three  hours  to  Ramleh,  and  were 
charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  plain  of  Sharon. 
A  Jew  named  Netter  declared  his  belief  that  the 
land  was  cursed  for  the  laziness  of  the  people,  and 
that  industry  would  make  it  blossom  again  like  the 
garden  of  the  Lord.  He  applied  his  doctrine ; 
and  the  blessings  of  royal  harvests  are  waving  in 
his  field  to-day  as  richly  as  in  any  part  of  the 
earth. 

I  believe  the  present  inhabitants  of  Palestine 
are  the  laziest  people  on  the  earth.  They  are 
mostly  Arabs ;  they  lie  round  in  the  hot  sun  doing 
nothing,  having  nothing.  A  stone  hut  of  one  or 
two  rooms,  without  floor,  window,  chair,  furniture, 
or  door,  meets  their  ideas  of  a  home ;  and  one  or 
two  masses  of  filthy  rags  constitute  an  ample 
wardrobe.  There  are  many  advantages  in  their 
style  of  dress ;  their  clothing  never  misfits  ;  it  can 
be  made  to  conform  to  any  prevailing  style  with- 
out making  over ;  it  is  constrained  by  no  laws  of 
color.  Catch  an  Arab  maiden  spending  a  whole 
day  in  matching  shades !  A  single  garment  of 
blue  cotton  is  often  her  whole  dress ;  and  lastly, 
it  enables  one  to   reach   any  part  of  his  person 


First  Impressions  of  Palestine.         241 

instantly  to  expel  insectiverous  intruders — a  de- 
cided advantage,  and  one  that  I  sadly  miss. 

I  have  not  seen  a  new  garment  in  my  whole  two 
days ;  I  do  not  think  they  ever  have  any,  except 
as  the  boy  got  a  new  knife  by  having  a  new  blade 
put  in,  and  then  a  handle  added  to  the  blade. 
They  plow  with  a  wooden  stick  that  a  man  can 
swing  with  one  hand,  drawn  by  two  little  oxen 
somewhat  bigger  than  cats.  Their  streets  are  so 
crooked  that  three  of  our  party  were  inextricably 
lost  in  a  town  covering  an  acre,  by  being  three 
rods  behind.  Rags,  rottenness,  smoke,  and  lazi- 
ness fill  the  life  of  the  men ;  hard  work  and  wear- 
ing coins  for  ornaments,  the  women ;  and  crying 
"  backsheesh,"  that  of  the  children.  I  have  seen 
as  many  as  twenty  coins,  as  large  as  a  silver  quar- 
ter of  a  dollar,  hung  to  the  vail  of  a  woman  en- 
gaged in  such  work  as  carrying  manure  !  I  have 
seen  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  gold 
coin  on  the  vail  of  a  single  woman  whose  whole 
wardrobe  could  not  have  been  worth  two  dollars. 
Even  the  babies  wear  anklets,  and  have  coins 
hung  around  their  foreheads.  Some  of  the  don- 
keys wear  brazen  ornaments  in  their  noses  and 
ears — so  they  do  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 

The  roads  could  not  be  worse.  They  never  are 
improved  by  labor,  but  are  full  of  loose  and  tight 


242  Sights  and  Insights. 

stones  of  all  sizes,  from  that  of  an  egg  to  that  of 
a  barrel.  "  Gather  out  the  stones,"  has  been 
obeyed  only  by  the  law  of  contraries.  Even  large 
towns  like  Gibeon  have  not  a  rod  of  decent  road. 
The  country  is  far  more  hilly  and  uneven  than 
I  expected ;  there  is  hardly  a  level  place  large 
enough  for  a  house  or  a  grave  from  Lydda  to  Jeru- 
salem. The  steep  declivities  of  the  hills  touch, 
without  intervening  meadows  ;  and  the  summit  of 
a  hill  is  no  sooner  reached  than  you  commence 
to  descend  the  other  side.  Neither  are  the  strata 
of  these  limestone  hills  inclined,  as  almost  every- 
where else.  The  whole  country  was  lifted  up  at 
once,  and  the  original  level  preserved.  Therefore 
the  hills  are  naturally  terraced,  and  look  as  if  in- 
finite labor  had  been  bestowed  upon  them.  These 
limestone  hills  are  sterile  to  an  extent  never 
dreamed  of.  They  glare  in  the  sun  ;  are  destitute 
of  tree,  shrub,  and  often  grass.  God  must  have 
been  good  to  the  land  in  the  olden  time,  or  it 
would  have  been  worse  than  the  desert.  Indeed, 
its  present  condition  is  illustrative  of  the  curses 
pronounced  upon  it  by  Jeremiah.  It  could  not  be 
a  fertile  and  pleasant  land  and  the  word  of  proph- 
ecy be  true.  We  have  ridden  over  thirty  miles 
to-day,  and,  excepting  a  few  acres  about  Gibeon, 
there  is  not  an  acre  that  any  farmer  amid  the  stony 


First  Impressions  of  Palestine.         243 

hills  of  New  Hampshire  ought  to  take  as  a  gift. 
The  curse  has  withered  it.  There  were  but  two 
places  where  a  drop  of  water  naturally  came  to  the 
surface.  One  was  just  east  of  Bethhoron,  where 
we  stayed  the  most  ravenous  appetite  that  ever 
brought  a  sense  of  emptiness,  and  the  other  was 
the  pool  at  Gibeon.  The  desolate  aspect  of  the 
country  is  greatly  increased  by  the  ruins  that  every- 
where speak  of  a  prosperity  that  has  vanished,  and 
a  life  that  has  turned  to  death.  The  only  build- 
ings that  are  attempted  to  be  kept  in  repair  are  the 
tombs  of  the  contemptible  grandees  of  this  miser- 
able people.  These  are  placed  on  every  lofty 
summit  of  the  hills.  That  is  fitting.  They  have 
groveled  long  enough,  and  if  there  is  any  possi- 
bility of  their  having  a  part  in  the  first  resurrec- 
tion they  will  need  a  good  start. 

Do  not  think  I  take  a  cerulean  view  of  things  ; 
I  have  not  had  the  blues  to-day.  It  has  been  a 
day  of  exhilaration  and  rapture ;  for  I  have  stood 
on  famous  sites  of  Bible  scenes,  and  seen  how  the 
everlasting  hills  tell  God's  truth.  I  did  not  want 
to  go  from  Egypt  to  Jerusalem  direct — from  Moses' 
birth  to  Christ's-  death  at  once ;  so  I  turned  up 
the  mountains  of  Bethhoron  to  see,  first  of  all, 
where  Joshua  got  possession  of  the  land  by  the 
defeat  of  the  five  kings  in  the  lengthened  day.     I 


244  Sights  and  Insights. 

climbed  up  the  valley  where  the  confederate  host 
came  down  pell-mell  from  the  siege  of  Gibeon ;  I 
saw  where  the  Lord  hindered  and  slew  them  with 
the  storm  of  hail — where  Joshua  came  upon  them, 
and,  in  the  long  day  of  an  unmoving  sun,  com- 
pleted the  work.  Soon  after  I  came  to  Gibeon 
itself.  It  was  the  ecclesiastical  capital  of  the 
theocracy  for  a  long  time.  Here  rested  the  taber- 
nacle till  the  completion  of  the  temple ;  here  met 
Israel  and  Judah  in  exterminating  warfare ;  here 
was  the  duel  of  twenty-four  men,  in  which  every 
man  was  slain  ;  here  Abner  was  defeated,  and  Da- 
vid secured  his  kingdom  ;  here  Amasa  was  slain  ; 
and  here  Solomon  came  up,  as  to  a  holy  place, 
and  prayed  for  that  wisdom  he  needed  to  rule. 

A  mile  to  the  south  is  Mizpeh — a  look-out. 
Westward  we  saw  all  the  hills  of  Bethhoron,  the 
plain  of  Sharon,  the  blue  Mediterranean;  east- 
ward, the  mountains  of  Moab  ;  but  most  of  all,  to 
the  south-east,  the  walls  and  domes  of  Jerusalem. 
As  many  historical  incidents  cluster  around  this 
place  as  about  Gibeon.  Here  was  held  the 
council  that  resulted  in  the  almost  entire  ex- 
termination of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin;  here 
Samuel  gathered  his  armies;  and  here  Saul 
was  elected  king.  The  truth  of  the  Bible  is 
incidentally  written   all    over   these    hills.     The 


First  Impressions  of  Palestine.         245 

truth  of  its  predictions  cannot  be  doubted,  nor 
the  severity  of  its  denunciations  despised  by 
any  man  who  moves  along  the  lines  of  their 
development. 

Two  hours  later  my  horse's  feet  were  clattering 
along  the  narrow,  stony  streets  of  Jerusalem ;  and 
here  I  sit  to  send  a  greeting  to  friends  far  away. 
Before  me  is  holy  week  in  Jerusalem.  Here  are 
Gethsemane,  Calvary,  and  the  place  of  the  Resur- 
rection ;  and  before  me  are  the  memorial  days  of 
the  occurrence  of  events  that  have  given  these 
spots  their  world-wide  interest. 

16 


XXXI. 

FAMILIAR   PALESTINE. 

|HIS  is  the  first  country  where  I  have  felt  at 
home.  Yet  I  have  been  in  no  country  that 
is  so  unlike  my  own.  Somehow  this  seems  as  if  I 
had  lived  here  long  ago  in  my  half-forgotten 
youth,  or  possibly  in  some  ante-natal  condition, 
dimly  remembered.  As  I  try  to  clear  away  the 
mists,  bring  forward  the  distant,  and  make  pres- 
ent what  seems  prehistoric,  I  find  myself  at  my 
mother's  side  and  my  early  childhood  renewed. 
Now  I  see  why  this  strange  country  seems  so  nat- 
ural. Its  customs,  sights,  sounds,  and  localities 
were  those  I  lived  among  in  that  early  time,  as 
shown  to  me  by  pictures,  explained  by  word,  and 
funded  as  a  part  of  my  undying  property. 

The  very  first  day,  some  experiences  of  which 
were  sketched  in  my  previous  letter,  was  full  of 
the  most  familiar  scenes. 

There  were  no  windows  on  the  streets,  no  lamps 
to  light  them ;  so  that  one  would  be  in  utter  dark- 
ness if  cast  out  from  the  wedding-feast. 

Every  house-top  is  a  haunt  for  all  purposes. 


Familiar  Palestine.  247 

We  went  on  the  one  where  Peter  went  up  to  pray, 
and  where  he  got  tidings  of  the  blessed  prospects 
for  us  Gentiles.  All  house-tops  have  battlements 
about  them,  as  Moses  commanded,  lest  men  fall 
and  their  blood  lie  at  the  door  of  the  owner.  The 
stairs  usually  go  up  outside  the  house,  yet  inside 
the  court,  so  that  coming  down  to  rush  into  the 
street  one  must  go  right  by  the  door.  Christ  told 
his  disciples  that  there  would  be  such  urgency  in 
their  flight  that  they  must  not  go  in  to  take  any- 
thing out.  There  was  a  mill,  with  its  upper  and 
nether  mill-stones,  in  the  very  first  yard  we  went 
into. 

The  ceaseless  chattering  of  countless  sparrows 
made  it  no  wonder  that  five  should  be  sold  for  two 
farthings.  And  yet  our  heavenly  Father  cared 
for  each.     How  much  more  for  men. 

Every-where  men  wrote  with  reeds,  and  not 
with  pens. 

The  Kadi  and  his  court  sat  in  the  open  air  at 
the  gate,  as  the  judges  in  the  time  of  Boaz.  There 
sat  Lot  to  receive  the  angels ;  there  Abraham 
bought  Machpelah ;  there  Eli  waited  the  news  of 
the  battle ;  and  there  David  went  up  to  weep. 
No  wonder  gates  symbolized  strength ;  and,  con- 
sidering that  all  go  in  at  them,  that  we  hear  of  the 
gates  of  death  and  the  open  gates  of  the  city  of  life. 


248  Sights  and  Insights. 

Outside  the  gates  were  the  lepers,  with  finger- 
less  hands,  handless  arms,  noseless  faces,  eyeless 
sockets,  voiceless  throats,  just  a  soul  joined  to  a 
body  of  death.  Covetousness  must  be  an  awful 
sin  to  be  punished  with  such  a  terrible  visitation. 

A  few  rods  outside  the  gate  stood  a  great  syca- 
more tree,  reaching  out  a  strong  level  limb  over 
the  road  for  any  Zaccheus  that  wanted  to  see  Je- 
sus. Its  strong,  well-rooted,  and  far-braced  bole 
presented  a  capital  opportunity  for  any  one  to  test 
his  faith. 

Vailed  women  met  us  every-where. 

There  was  a  plenty  of  praying  in  public  places, 
whether  to  be  seen  of  men,  the  All-seeing  alone 
could  discover.  Repetitions  were  abundant,  for  a 
man  stood  saying  over  and  over  "  Allah  hu  Ak- 
bar  "  more  times  than  I  cared  to  remain  to  count. 
I  suppose  they  were  vain,  for  the  Arabs  have  a 
proverb  in  regard  to  these  pretentiously  pious 
people :  "  If  your  neighbor  has  been  to  Mecca 
once,  watch  him  ;  twice,  avoid  him ;  if  three  times, 
move  into  the  next  street."  Arabs  who  have  been 
once  are  apt  to  be  quite  sharp  enough  for  Ameri- 
cans who  are  old  enough  to  have  cut  their  wis- 
dom teeth.  When  they  say  "  I  never  cheat," 
judge  them  by  the  rule  of  contraries. 

The  plain  of  Sharon  was  gorgeous  with  flowers. 


Familiar  Palestine.  249 

Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one 
of  these. 

At  night  somebody  hammered  on  our  door  half 
an  hour,  but  "the  door  was  shut."  We  had  au- 
ricular proof  that  "without  were  dogs,"  plenty 
of  them. 

We  ceased  to  wonder  that  they  should  call  on 
the  people  to  make  the  paths  straight,  if  they  ex- 
pect to  welcome  their  Lord. 

But  I  need  not  particularize.  The  whole  scen- 
ery is  appropriate,  and  all  Bible  description  exact. 
In  the  southern  part  of  Palestine  vineyards  abound. 
They  have  their  hedge,  tower,  winefat,  and  are  let 
out  to  husbandmen.  Of  the  five  parables  and 
references  to  vineyards,  three  at  least,  and  prob- 
ably five,  were  spoken  in  Southern  Palestine.  The 
allusion  to  the  torrent  that  swept  away  the  foolish 
man's  house  was  spoken  in  Northern  Palestine, 
where  that  thing  is  done  even  to  this  day.  And  a 
place  that  meets  every  requirement  of  the  parable 
of  the  sower,  namely,  the  wayside,  stony  ground, 
thorns,  birds  of  the  air,  and  good  ground,  can  yet 
be  seen  from  the  Lake  of  Galilee. 

The  Scripture  is  always  correct.  Samson  goes 
down  to  Timnath,  Joshua  goes  up  from  Ai,  and 
down  from  Bethhoron.  And  we  go  down  to  Jericho 
to  this  day.     The  south  wind  blows  from  Arabia, 


250  Sights  and  Insights. 

and  there  is  heat.  The  clouds  come  from  the 
Mediterranean  in  the  west,  and  there  is  rain. 
"  God  prepared  an  east  wind,  and  the  same  beat  on 
the  head  of  Jonah,  and  he  fainted."  So  did  I 
nearly  when  a  sirocco  swept  over  the  burning 
desert  from  the  far  east,  and  the  thermometer 
stood  at  ninety-eight  degrees  in  the  coolest  place 
we  could  find. 

God  is  careful  to  attest  his  word.  He  hath  left 
all  Palestine  as  one  great  comment  on  the  Bible. 
He  hath  made  the  dumb  earth  to  speak  its  truth ; 
every  flower  breathes  incense  to  its  praise.  The 
chirp  of  twittering  bird  all  over  the  earth,  as  well 
as  angel-song  at  Bethlehem,  declares  its  truth. 
Summer  shower,  evening  wind,  and  beautiful  rain- 
bows, attest  that  it  is  from  God.  Goethe  said,  The 
more  we  study  the  Bible  the  more  we  see  to  study. 
The  Christian  says,  The  more  we  love  it  the  more 
we  are  drawn  to  love.  We  will  take  it,  as  Christ 
did,  into  our  fierce  battles  ;  and  when  the  conflict 
thickens  we  grow  weak,  and  the  great  enemy 
exults,  we  will  hurl  it  at  him.  We  shall  find  it  a 
word  of  power.  When  we  grow  weary  in  life,  and 
long  for  life  that  cannot  weary,  we  will  lay  it  be- 
neath our  heads,  and  draw  such  life  from  the  word 
as  toil  cannot  weaken  and  death  cannot  touch. 


XXXII. 

A  SHAM  PENTECOST. 

[HE  Greek  Church  is  so  super-apostolic  that 

it  is  favored  with  a  Pentecost  every  year.    It 

needs  it.     One  every  month,  such  as  I  saw 

to-day,  could  not  save  or  extend  its  power.     The 

difficulty  is  that  its  Pentecost  and  descent  of  flame 

are  only  human — terribly  human. 

On  Thursday  evening  the  host  was  carried  into 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  from  that  time  thousands 
of  pilgrims  actually  camped  in  the  church,  and 
left  it  not,  day  or  night,  for  any  purpose,  that  they 
might  watch  for  the  coming  of  the  fire  on  Sat- 
urday noon.  It  is  the  occasion  of  the  Greek 
Easter. 

On  Friday  night  there  was  hardly  room  enough 
to  step  in  the  numerous  cloisters,  chapels,  and  con- 
geries of  apartments  that  make  up  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  so  thickly  were  the  bodies  of 
the  sleeping  pilgrims  disposed  about  the  floors.  It 
was  perfectly  still.  They  seemed  like  dead  men, 
awaiting  to  rise  with  their  Lord ;  as  if  they  were 
the  ones  whose  graves  had  been  opened,  and  were 


252  Sights  and  Insights. 

to  go  with  him,  after  his  resurrection,  into  the  Holy 
City,  and  appear  unto  many. 

I  went  in  again  at  eleven  o'clock  Saturday  morn- 
ing. By  the  favor  of  the  British  Consul  (for  we 
have  none  here)  I  was  assigned  an  admirable  place 
for  seeing.  The  Holy  Sepulchre  stands  in  a  ro- 
tunda, ninety-nine  feet  in  diameter,  surrounded  by 
eighteen  colossal  piers,  between  which  passages 
lead  to  innumerable  rooms  circling  round  the  cen- 
tral rotunda.  Two  galleries,  one  above  the  other, 
are  carried  entirely  around,  giving  room  for  spec- 
tators to  stand  between  the  enormous  piers.  To 
afford  additional  room  for  spectators,  temporary 
galleries  had  been  fitted  up  between  the  floor  and 
the  first  gallery.  My  position  was  in  the  first  gal- 
lery, nearly  opposite  the  hole  in  the  sepulchre 
whence  the  holy  fire  was  to  issue. 

The  building  was  packed  to  its  utmost  limit. 
Men  were  perched  in  the  most  inaccessible 
places  :  standing  on  one  foot  in  deep  panels,  cling- 
ing to  hanging  lamps,  climbing  up  ladders,  and 
sometimes  standing  on  each  other.  A  double  line 
of  Turkish  soldiers  on  each  side  endeavored  to 
keep  open  a  passage  round  the  sepulchre,  through 
which  the  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  were  to  march. 
I  say,  endeavored  :  but  they  could  not  always  suc- 
ceed.    A  rush  would  often  take  place  between  two 


A  Sham  Pentecost.  253 

piers,  and  the  line  of  soldiers  would  be  crowded 
together  in  spite  of  themselves.  Then  the  officers 
would  belabor  the  crowd  most  unmercifully  with 
large  whips  over  the  heads  of  the  soldiers.  I 
could  often  see  that  just  out  of  reach  of  those 
terrible  whips  would  be  a  dozen  jovial  fellows, 
crouched  for  vantage  ground,  and  shoving  lustily 
those  who  were  within  range  of  the  lash.  Then 
the  officers  would  appear  in  the  rear,  and,  clutching 
the  real  rascals  from  behind,  pitch  them  out  of  the 
crowd  without  gloves.  A  stalwart  Nubian  seemed 
to  have  the  most  authority  and  strength. 

Next  to  the  sepulchre  was  a  solid  mass  of  flesh. 
I  never  looked  on  rougher  specimens  of  my  kind, 
except  some  Bedouins  near  the  Dead  Sea.  For 
clear,  unadulterated  devilishness,  they  will  long 
carry  the  palm.  But  these  were  bad  enough. 
Scarcely  any  one  had  on  more  clothing  than 
drawers,  shirt,  and  turban.  Their  sleeves  were 
rolled  up,  or  gone  to  the  shoulder ;  their  arms 
were  tattooed  to  the  elbow ;  in  each  right  hand 
was  firmly  grasped  a  bunch  of  quarter-inch  can- 
dles, tied  together  till  from  one  to  three  inches  in 
diameter,  and  firmly  lashed  to  the  wrist.  Every 
arm  was  thrown  up  and  spread  over  the  shoulders 
of  the  crowd.  Hardly  a  moment  was  free  from 
some  tumult.     Some  active  rascal  would  suddenly 


254  Sights  and  Insights. 

clutch  his  front  neighbor  by  the  neck,  and  crowd 
by  him;  then  yells,  threats,  and  blows  resounded. 
They  used  to  kill  each  other  by  scores,  to  be  the 
first  to  get  the  issuing  holy  fire.  They  were  sure 
to  be  among  the  highest  saints  if  they  only  suc- 
ceeded. Now  they  sell  the  reception  of  the  first 
fire  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  put  a  gang  of  prize- 
fighters around  the  hole  to  insure  his  getting  what 
he  pays  for.  This  great  boon  has  been  sold  for 
as  much  as  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  I  am  happy  to  say  the  estimate  of  its 
value  has  depreciated,  and  this  year  seven  hun- 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  was  the  most  money 
offered.  Three  men,  who  need  to  strike  but 
once  to  finish  a  quarrel,  stood  round  the  holy 
hole  to  carry  the  first  fire  to  the  purchaser. 

They  had  handkerchiefs  tied  round  their  heads, 
except  one  whose  hair  was  cropped  to  fighting 
trim.  They  gloried  in  their  strength.  None 
ventured  to  approach  very  near  where  these  Go- 
liaths  strutted. 

An  hour  after  my  arrival,  forty-eight  hours  after 
the  arrival  of  many,  the  Pacha  arrived,  and  took 
his  seat  near  where  I  stood.  We  expected  the  per- 
formance would  soon  take  place ;  for  a  few  years 
ago,  tired  of  waiting,  he  sent  word  to  the  ecclesias- 
tics that  if  the  fire  did  not  come  from  heaven  soon, 


A  Sham  Pentecost.  255 

he  would  order  his  soldiers  to  make  one  on 
earth.  It.  came  directly.  It  did  not  come  very- 
soon  to-day.  Every  few  moments  some  one 
would  creep  through  the  lines,  and  commence  to 
race  like  mad  round  the  sepulchre.  They  would 
be  speedily  stopped,  and  unceremoniously  jammed 
back  into  the  crowd.  Years  ago,  before  soldiers 
were  introduced,  they  had  free  license  to  race 
round  the  sacred  tomb.  Many  were  trampled  to 
death.  They  give  up  their  old  privileges  unwill- 
ingly. Frequently  nearly  every  person  in  the 
building  seemed  infected  with  a  sudden  disposition 
to  yell,  and  they  indulged  themselves  freely. 
Then  a  dozen  bells  would  ring ;  and  anon  the 
shrill  ululations  of  a  Moslem  war-cry  would  pierce 
every  part  of  the  building.  At  length  a  proces- 
sion of  priests,  bishop,  and  the  patriarch,  gorgeous 
in  silk  and  embroidery,  filed  into  the  reserved 
arena.  They  marched  three  times  around  the 
sepulchre  to  .the  music  of  their  own  chant,  and  the 
unrestrained  yells  of  thousands  of  frenzied  men  in 
at  least  half  a  dozen  different  languages.  Then 
came  a  pause,  but  not  a  quiet.  The  manifestation 
of  God  was  about  to  appear.  Formerly  they  let  a 
dove  loose  to  fly  in  the  dome,  and  thus  represent 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  discontinued 
now.     But  the  excitement  is  hardry  less  intense. 


256  Sights  and  Insights. 

Had  these  men  all  suddenly  gone  mad,  the  excite- 
ment could  not  seem  greater. 

The  fire  frequently  delays  to  fall.  Formerly 
they  would  pitch  every  Arab  out  of  the  building, 
to  hasten  its  coming.  There  were  none  present 
to-day. 

Soon  a  robed  bishop  stepped  to  the  holy  hole, 
put  in  both  arms,  and  paused  a  moment,  while 
some  hearts  stood  still  in  expectation  of  the  flam- 
ing symbol  of  God's  presence,  and  others  went 
wild  with  unutterable  frenzy.  Suddenly  he  brought 
forth  a  bundle  of  candles,  with  a  flame  six  inches 
high,  flaring  like  a  torch,  and  delivered  it  to  the  di- . 
abolical  trinity  beside  him,  who,  locking  one  arm 
each  about  the  other's  necks,  and  holding  the 
flame  aloft  with  the  other  arms,  started  through  the 
avenue  of  soldiers  toward  the  waiting  purchaser. 
Then  the  hell  broke  loose.  Pandemonium  yelled. 
The  lines  were  forced  together.  Men  leaped  on 
each  other,  and  thrust  their  candles  toward  the 
flame.  The  holders  lashed  it  to  and  fro,  that  none 
might  catch  it,  and  pressed  toward  the  purchaser. 
When  they  delivered  it  into  his  hand,  there  was 
not  a  single  lighted  taper  in  their  surging  wake. 
They  had  succeeded.  Then  the  bishop  took  out 
another  flame.  One  issued  at  the  opposite  side 
for  the  Armenians,  and  one  from  the  western  end 


A  Sham  Pentecost.  257 

for  the  poor  Copts  at  the  same  time.  Men  and 
devils  yelled ;  reached  a  hundred  naked  arms  to- 
ward the  light ;  every  man  that  got  it  strove  to 
prevent  his  neighbors  from  lighting  from  his  flame ; 
many  leaped  on  others  having  lights,  and  endeav- 
ored to  wrench  them  away.  Then  we  saw  why 
they  were  lashed  to  the  wrist.  I  expected  to  see 
every  garment  burst  into  flame.  Some  danced 
and  swung  their  flaring  torches,  frequently  striking 
others  in  the  face.  Many  a  long  beard  and  uncut 
head  of  hair  did  take  fire.  Meanwhile,  the  flames 
spread.  The  smoke  of  thousands  of  torches,  the 
suffocating  smell  of  singed  hair,  rolled  up  and 
darkened  the  whole  building,  in  which  the  torches 
flared  and  flickered  as  if  in  a  witches'  dance. 
Every  man  sought  to  bathe  himself  in  the  flame. 
They  opened  their  shirts,  and  thrust  the  torch  in- 
to their  bosoms  ;  waved  it  before  their  faces  to 
breathe  the  fire.  The  crowd  evidently  thinned. 
Hundreds  were  crushed  to  death  in  1834  by  at- 
tempting to  leave  the  church  at  once  after  the  fire 
came.  Skull  caps  of  white  cotton  are  sold  by 
thousands  to  be  used  to  put  out  the  fire,  and  be 
put  on  the  head  of  the  pilgrim  after  death.  Men 
now  extinguished  their  fires  in  these  caps,  turbans, 
shirts,  and  handkerchiefs.  But  frequently  some 
newcomer  would  make    a  wide  circle  where    he 


258  Sights  and  Insights. 

swung  his  flaring  flame,  or  some  one  destitute  of  a 
torch  would  create  a  decided  scene  by  striving  to 
wring  one  from  its  legitimate  possessor. 

I  came  out  and  watched  the  mass  of  humanity  (?) 
issuing  from  the  portal.  They  looked  haggard. 
Many  had  lost  turbans  and  head-gear  in  the  fight. 
Many  were  singed.  Many  were  blowing  red  blis- 
ters, disproving  the  doctrine  that  the  fire  is  harm- 
less. Perhaps  it  is  only  so  to  saints.  If  so,  I  won- 
der the  whole  multitude  was  not  consumed.  Every 
one  bore  his  bunch  of  candles.  Most  had  the 
cloth  to  which  the  holy  fire  imparted  its  sanctity 
when  extinguished.  These  candles,  cloths,  and 
pilgrims,  will  scatter  to  the  far  parts  of  Northern 
Russia,  and  away  to  the  East  to-morrow.  What 
can  God  do  with  such  material  ?  A  sweet  picture 
rises  to  rebuke  me  for  that  question.  I  saw  a 
school  of  sweet-faced  children  the  other  day  as 
interesting  as  those  that  dot  our  New  England 
hills.  And  I  was  told  that  those  children  were 
raked  as  jewels  out  of  these  foul  sewers  of  Jeru- 
salem. They  were  a  part  of  this  human  vermin 
put  into  better  circumstances.  And  I  ought  rather 
to  ask,  What  will  we  do  for  these,  our  fellows? 

To  the  honor  of  the  Greek  Church  be  it  said 
that  one  man  declined  the  patriarchate  of  Jerusa- 
lem because  he  would  not  take  part  in  what  he 


A  Sham  Pentecost.  259 

knew  to  be  a  fraud.  And  the  present  Patriarch 
rendered  himself  unpopular  by  honestly  declaring 
that  the  fire  had  an  earthly  origin.  But  what 
Irishman  would  go  to  Donnybrook  Fair  if  there 
was  to  be  no  play  with  shillalahs  ?  What  Digger 
Indian  would  go  to  a  pow-wow  and  war  dance  if 
there  was  no  captive  to  be  tortured  ?  And  what 
Greek  pilgrim  would  come  from  Siberia,  or  Copt 
from  Central  Africa,  if  there  is  to  be  no  Pentecost 
at  Jerusalem ;  no  candle  that  has  been  touched 
by  holy  fire  in  his  dwelling  after  his  return ;  and 
no  memory  that  he  has  been  near  God  to  bless  him 
through  all  his  after-life  ? 


XXXIII. 

GROPINGS  UNDER  JERUSALEM. 

'HE  tendency  of  cities  is  to  bury  themselves. 
The  ground  around  Notre  Dame,  in  Paris, 
has  risen  eleven  feet  in  seven  hundred  years. 
The  pavement  on  which  the  people  stood  to  hear 
Cicero  scarify  Cataline  was  discovered  twelve  feet 
under  the  surface  of  the  cow-pasture  which  took 
its  place.  The  magnificent  foundations  of  the  gate, 
through  which  the  great  Panathenaic  processions 
swept  to  the  Parthenon  at  Athens,  have  just  been 
uncovered  by  removing  twenty  feet  of  earth.  We 
were  able  to  see  the  Temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus, 
where  the  people  yelled  for  two  hours,  only  by 
removing  about  thirty  feet  of  soil.  And  the 
twenty  sieges,  seventeen  captures,  and  two  utter 
annihilations  of  Jerusalem,  have  heaped  the  debris 
of  its  ruins  in  some  places  to  the  depth  of  one 
hundred  feet.  Some  houses  have  three  ranges  of 
ruins  under  them. 

The  tendency  of  the  explorer  is  to  disinter.  He 
likes  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  things,  and  I  confess 
I   share   his   feelings.     The   whole    rocky  region 


Gropings  Under  Jerusalem.  261 

about  Jerusalem  has  been  fairly  honey-combed. 
The  precipitous  sides  of  the  ravines  all  gape  with 
old  tombs — some  single,  many  of  complicated 
construction,  and  connected  -with  chambers, 
vaults,  passages,  story  above  story,  and  range 
behind  range. 

But  the  city  itself  is  the  chief  object  of  interest. 
The  location  of  the  holy  sites  has  given  rise  to 
battles  as  long  and  fierce,  if  not  as  bloody,  as  those 
for  the  possession  of  the  city  itself.  It  seems  to 
me  that  God  has  designedly  hidden  these  from 
identification.  And  when  I  see  the  blind  idolatry 
of  those  places,  that  the  least  sense  can  see  are 
not  the  real  ones,  I  am  not  surprised. 

But  we  are  lingering  above  ground,  and  resist- 
ing the  fascination  below.  Just  east  of  the 
Damascus  gate  on  the  north  side  of  the  city, 
where  the  whole  rocky  area  has  been  greatly  cut 
down,  we  pass  under  the  walls,  light  our  candles, 
scramble  down  over  a  heap  of  rubbish  through  a 
three-foot  passage,  and  come  into  vast  excavations 
directly  under  the  city.  Here  we  wandered  hour 
after  hour,  constantly  descending  toward  the  south- 
east. These  excavations  are  immense.  In  some 
places  there  were  great  heaps  of  small  chips,  as  if 
ten  thousand  perch  of  stone  had  been  dressed  at 

that  spot.     Sometimes  we  came  to  vast  irregular 

17 


262  Sights  and  Insights. 

pillars,  left  to  support  the  roof.  Sometimes  that 
support  had  been  insufficient,  and  a  thousand  tons 
of  rock  had  fallen  from  roof  to  floor.  If  the  proc- 
ess had  been  repeated  while  we  were  under  we 
should  have  needed  no  other  burial.  We  came  to 
a  place  where  a  man,  who  had  wandered  long  in 
these  vast  caves,  had  lain  down  and  died.  Doubt- 
less his  lights  had  all  burned  out,  and  left  him  in 
this  utter  blackness  to  wander  hopelessly  till  his 
starved  body  refused  to  move,  and  he  lay  down 
to  wait  alone  for  death.  It  is  a  good  place  to  lose 
one's  self.  The  lights  of  your  fellows  disappear 
behind  columns,  or  in  distant  recesses.  And  when 
you  shout  to  them,  or  they  to  you,  the  multitudi- 
nous echoes  prevent  your  knowing  whence  the 
voice  proceeds.  Even  our  guide  lost  his  way  in 
trying  to  come  out,  and  we  had  an  opportunity  to 
speculate  on  how  long  our  diminishing  candles 
would  last.  We  could  see  where  the  workmen 
,  placed  their  smoky  lamps  on  the  wall,  where  they 
had  partially  excavated  behind  slabs  of  rock  which 
they  did  not  finally  detach ;  we  saw  blocks  that 
were  not  finished,  the  marks  of  the  tools  as  plain 
as  when  first  made. 

In  one  place  some  water  trickled  down  through 
the  limestone,  and  left  its  usual  depositions  of  pure 
white.     Who  excavated  these  vast  chambers,  and 


Gropings  Under  Jerusalem.  263 

for  what  purpose  ?  Evidently  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  building-stone.  And  probably  it  was 
done  by  Solomon  to  obtain  stones  for  the  temple, 
and  his  other  vast  works.  Here  they  were  torn 
from  their  beds,  broken,  cut,  shaped,  and  polished 
in  the  dark,  and  then  lifted  up  into  the  light,  never 
to  feel  hammer-stroke  any  more,  but  to  be. set  in 
their  designed  place  in  the  temple,  amid  the 
shoutings  of  "  Grace,  grace  !  "  So  it  is  with  us, 
the  living  stones. 

When  Solomon  received  the  exact  pattern  and 
dimensions  for  the  temple  on  Mount  Moriah,  he 
found  that  the  temple  was  much  larger  than  the 
area  of  the  mountain  top.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
"  Reduce  the  building  to  the  size  of  the  ground," 
Worldly  Wiseman  might  say.  "Not  a  digit,"  said 
the  then  obedient  Solomon ;  "build  the  mountain  of 
the  Lord's  house  large  enough  to  receive  the  house 
itself."  It  was  done,  and  immense  substructures 
rose  from  the  sloping  sides  to  the  level  of  the 
mountain.  We  went  down  into  the  complicated 
series  of  arches  and  pillars  that  have  been  placed 
between  these  walls  and  the  mountain  to  support 
the  floor  above.  And  though  they  have  been  re- 
constructed out  of  the  old  material,  we  got  a  vivid 
idea  of  the  extent  of  the  vast  works  that  Solomon 
accomplished. 


264  Sights  and  Insights. 

To  go  down  into  the  lowest  series  of  subterra- 
nean works  that  has  been  discovered  was  a  task 
of  greater  difficulty.  Several  guides  professed  to 
be  able  to  lead  thither,  but  did  not.  The  authori- 
ties would  gladly  bury  all  knowledge  of  these  dis- 
coveries. The  very  last  day  of  my  tarrying  in  Je- 
rusalem had  come,  and  I  feared  I  might  not  ac- 
complish my  wish.  But  one  of  Captain  Warren's 
assistants  came  to  my  aid.  I  expected  the  place 
would  not  be  particularly  sweet,  dry,  roomy,  or 
pleasant ;  and  as  I  crept  along  on  hands  and 
toes,  with  the  mud  oozing  up  between  my  fingers, 
and  the  fragrance  of  these  sub-sewers  in  my  nos- 
trils, I  realized  my  expectations. 

But  who  could  traverse  works  whose  stones  were 
laid  under  the  supervision  of  Solomon,  by  the 
workmen  of  King  Hiram  of  Tyre,  and  still  bearing 
the  Phoenician  marks,  and  not  be  thrilled  with  the 
greatest  interest !  Here  doubt  vanishes,  and  the 
doings  of  the  great  king  of  Jerusalem  stand  con- 
fessed. The  only  drawback  to  the  pleasure  of 
the  day  was  the  consciousness  that  these  explora- 
tions had  come  to  an  end — that  numberless  cisterns, 
tanks,  and  passages  remained  unexplored,  and 
questions  of  the  highest  interest  unsolved.  But 
ignorance  and  superstition  cannot  always  reign. 
Some  time  not  very  far  distant,  I  believe,  permis- 


Gropings  under  Jerusalem.  265 

sion  will  be  obtained,  and,  since  they  would  not 
now  be  worshiped  by  the  finders,  the  sacred  sites 
of  the  temple,  the  altar,  the  holy  of  holies,  and  the 
place  of  the  crucifixion,  will  be  conclusively  iden- 
tified. 


XXXIV. 

HOW  WE  GET   ABOUT  THE  HOLY  LAND. 

T(jp7"E  get  about  just  as  our  fathers,  the  patri- 
^V^)T  archs,  did.  Like  Abraham,  we  come 
from  a  far  country,  and  have  servants  and  horses 
and  camels  and  asses.  Like  Jacob,  we  are  plain 
men  dwelling  in  tents.  Like  David,  we  are  stran- 
gers and  sojourners,  as  were  all  our  fathers ;  our 
days  are  as  a  shadow,  and  there  is  no  abiding. 

When  it  is  known  that  there  is  a  party  at  the 
Damascus  or  Mediterranean  hotel  at  Jerusalem 
about  to  make  a  tour  in  the  country,  every  drag- 
oman prepares  to  call  upon  them  in  state.  They 
send  up  their  cards.  They  come  themselves, 
brown,  yellow,  and  black — in  wide  trousers,  and 
turbans  green,  blue,  red,  and  white.  Find- 
ing there  is  no  lack  in  quantity,  you  begin  to  in- 
quire about  quality,  and  find  from  their  innumer- 
able testimonials,  many  of  them  manufactured  and 
spurious,  that  each  one  is  the  best  in  Syria.  Some 
of  them  speak  as  many  as  ten  languages,  but  can 
neither  read  nor  write  one. 

Being  Americans,  we  selected  a  Nubian  named 


How  We  Get  About  the  Holy  Land.    267 

Eunice,  black  as  a  coal,  with  regular  African  feat- 
ures and  heels,  who  declared,  after  seeing  our 
white  skins  at  the  Dead  Sea,  that  he  was  born 
white  as  any  of  us,  but  had  got  somewhat  tanned. 
He  could  both  read  and  write. 

This  dragoman  provided  us  with  three  large 
double  tents,  one  for  stores  and  two  for  us,  the. 
men  sleeping  out  doors  among  the  horses ;  nine 
men,  and  fourteen  horses  and-  mules.  What  an 
^rmy  for  five  unostentatious  Methodist  preachers. 
Besides  these  there  was  always  a  guard  hired  from 
a  neighboring  post  at  night,  and  sometimes  an  es- 
cort by  day.  This  guard  always  endeavored  to 
seem  to  earn  their  money  by  an  incessant  chal- 
lenging of  real  or  imaginary  foes,  and  discharging 
their  fire-arms  every  few  minutes  throughout  the 
entire  night.  This  immense  train  and  guard 
seemed  unnecessary  to  us,  but  the  dragoman,  hav- 
ing contracted  to  take  us  on  our  journey  safely, 
was  at  liberty  to  engage  as  large  an  army  as  he 
thought  best. 

That  contract  was  something  truly  formidable. 
It  took  all  the  legal  talent  of  the  party  to  draw  it  up. 
It  was  strong  enough  for  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lar job  at  least.  It  was  witnessed  before  the  consul. 
I  take  it  out  of  my  relics,  and  look  over  its  En- 
glish script,  which  the  dragoman  could  not  under- 


268  Sights  and  Insights. 

stand,  and  its  supposed  Arabic,  which  we  could 
not  understand,  with  no  little  interest.  Neverthe- 
less it  stood  us  in  good  stead.  When  disputes 
arose,  and  rebellions  were  imminent,  we  pointed 
to  clauses  strong  enough  to  beggar,  draw  and 
quarter  our  poor  dragoman  on  our  arrival  at  the 
end  of  our  journey,  and  every  time  that  contract 
won  the  day.  We  might  have  kept  him  till  this 
time  with  it.  Indeed,  so  enamored  did  he  be- 
come with  us,  he  begged  to  be  taken  to  America.  / 
But  for  fear  of  breaking  the  hearts  of  his  two 
wives  in  Cairo,  we  insisted  on  his  return. 

The  roads  over  which  Joseph  sent  wagons,  and  on 
which  the  Canaanites,  King  Jabin,  the  Philistines, 
and  old  Romans  drove  their  chariots,  have  all  dis- 
appeared. It  is  a  rare  thing  to  find  a  rod  of  Ro- 
man road.  Only  one  road  now  exists,  and  that 
has  just  been  finished  from  Beirut  to  Damascus. 
And  even  there,  the  natives  drive  their  camels 
and  other  beasts  of  burden  along  unworked  mount- 
ain-paths beside  that  perfect  road  rather  than  pay 
a  trifling  toll  for  its  use. 

But  how  do  we  get  about?  Suppose  we  live 
over  a  specimen  day.  Five  o'clock  finds  us  turn- 
ing out  of  our  camp-beds,  cooling  our  hundreds 
of  volcanoes  with  welcome  water,  inspecting  every 
article  of  clothing  with  care,  and  finding,  perhaps, 


How  We  Get  About  the  Holy  Land.     269 

before  the  toilet  is  completed,  that  some  flea  has 
escaped  notice,  and  is  devoting  all  his  venomous 
energies  to  raising  more  volcanoes. 

Then  we  step  out  of  the  tent-door,  and  Mount 
Ebal  faces  us.  Behind  is  Gerizim,  and  between, 
the  beautiful  valley  of  springs.  Breakfast  consists, 
as  usual,  of  eggs,  boiled,  raw,  or  omeletted,  two 
courses  of  meat,  bread,  butter,  coffee,  oranges,  and 
nuts.  Then  to  horse.  Then  follows  a  series  of 
denunciations  of  the  "  master  of  horse  "  and  his 
miserable  string  contrivances,  of  which  he  under- 
stands not  a  word,  and  we  learn  to  depend  on  our- 
selves. The  usual  crowd  of  lepers  stands  round 
for  alms.  We  give  to  their  chief  for  the  general 
good,  and  are  glad  to  leave  them  behind.  We 
ride  an  hour  through  olive  groves,  and  an  hour 
after  approach  ancient  Samaria.  I  thought  I  had 
prepared  for  the  journey,  and  could  meet  no  sur- 
prises. But  the  beauty  of  the  situation,  the  extraor- 
dinary magnificence  of  its  former  architectural 
splendor  as  shown  in  present  ruins,  astonished  me. 
For  a  half  a  mile  huge  columns  protrude  from  the 
accumulated  earth,  in  the  midst  of  wheat  fields 
and  olive  orchards,  showing  what  was  once  a 
stately  colonnade  leading  to  a  magnificent  temple 
on  the  summit.  But  Samaria  sinned,  and  the  word 
of  prophecy  proclaimed  that  it  should  fall;  and 


270  Sights  and  Insights. 

all  the  art  and  power  of  man  is  as  weakness  before 
one  of  God's  words. 

Then  we  climbed  steep  hills  for  hours ;  met 
dozens  of  women  bringing  down  great  bundles  of 
thorny  brush  for  fire-wood.  I  do  not  wonder  that 
they  are  willing  to  go,  as  they  sometimes  do,  four 
miles,  and  climb  a  high  mountain,  as  we  found 
them  on  Tabor,  to  get  the  means  of  making  a 
sweeter  smelling  fire  than  the  dried  manure,  with 
which  so  many  villages  scent  the  air  for  miles. 

The  noon-day  lunch,  consisting  of  cold  chicken, 
mutton,  eggs,  sardines,  bread  of  the  country,  some- 
times in  loaves  and  sometimes  rolled  thin  as  a 
napkin,  and  as  large,  is  eaten  under  some  fig  or 
olive  tree,  when  such  can  be  found,  by  men  who 
know  what  hunger  is.  A  few  oranges  and  dates 
give  a  touch  of  elegance  to  a  repast  that  otherwise 
would  have  been  more  substantial  eating. 

Reaching  the  summit  of  the  hills,  we  cried, 
"  Thalatta,  thalatta!  "  as  eagerly  as  did  Xenophon's 
ten  thousand  Greeks,  for  at  the  west  was  the  blue 
Mediterranean.  Between  us  and  it  nestled  Do- 
than,  on  the  hill  that  Elijah  saw  full  of  chariots 
and  horsemen.  Carmel  lay  at  the  north-west. 
The  great  battle-plain  of  Esdraelon  spread  at  our 
feet ;  in  it  were  Jezreel  and  Nain,  and  beyond  it  the 
hills  of  Nazareth.     Just  at  the  right  of  them  rose 


How  We  Get  About  the  Holy  Land.     271 

the  rounded  form  of  Tabor,  at  the  north-west  lay 
the  sea  of  Galilee,  and  beyond  it  Herman  lifted 
its  snowy  crest.  At  the  east  lay,  near  at  hand, 
the  hills  of  Gilboa,  and  beyond,  the  mountains  of 
Moab.  How  we  lingered  over  the  prospect !  O 
these  visions  of  the  land  of  promise !  They  rise  in 
long  delightful  lines,  and  sweep  by  like  pano- 
ramas. There  are  pictures  of  green  set  in  rocky 
border,  fertility  contrasted  with  sterility,  strange 
trees  covered  with  gorgeous  flowers,  places  dear 
to  us  as  home,  and  all  embosomed  in  pellucid  air. 
Yes,  dear  to  us  as  home ;  for  they  are  associated 
with  the  home  of  the  soul,  its  rest,  peace,  and  the 
beginning  of  its  best  life.  By  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  we  had  finished  our  wanderings 
among  the  hills,  and  came  down  to  our  camp  at 
Jenin. 

Here  we  had  dinner.  That  was  always  an  event. 
It  consisted  of  no  less  than  five  or  six  courses,  of 
which  the  breakfast  and  ample  lunch  were  only  a 
hint,  a  foretokening. 

Thus  day  by  day  we  traversed  scenes  of  most 
absorbing  interest.  One  by  one,  words  ceased  to 
represent  a  dim  airy  imagining  and  came  to 
represent  a  living  reality.  God's  great  judgments 
are  scored  into  the  eternal  rocks  of  these  hills, 
branded  deep  into  the  seared  valleys,  and  written 


272  Sights  and  Insights. 

on  a  hundred  ruined  cities  and  towns.  Already 
the  wearinesses,  discomforts,  fatigues,  and  dis- 
gusts have  retired  by  a  law  of  our  nature  into  the 
dim  background,  and  are  recalled  only  by  an  ef- 
fort ;  while  the  moral  victories  of  our  race,  the 
places  where  they  were  won,  and  the  visions  of 
Jesus  walking  like  a  reservoir  of  life  amid  our  dy- 
ing humanity,  grow  clearer  and  more  beautiful 
day  by  day. 


XXXV. 

PI  LGRIMS. 

"TM?ft7'HEN  the  sun  of  Africa  reaches  the  limit 
jV?yr  of  its  southing,  and  begins  to  come  back 
toward  the  equator  and  the  north,  there 
is  a  stir  in  the  breasts  of  those  far-off  men  to 
go  to  Jerusalem.  They  float  down  the  Nile,  they 
take  caravans  and  cross  the  deserts  from  Abys- 
sinia, or  the  steamers  and  cross  the  sea,  but  they 
must  come  to  the  Holy  City.  The  same  feeling 
stirs  Arabia  and  the  far  East.  It  quivers  through 
Europe.  Frozen  Russia  is  warmed  by  the  same 
impulse,  and  from  a  thousand  converging  lines 
men  draw  near  the  holy  place.  Easter  week  finds 
thousands  gathered  at  Jerusalem  who  have  never 
been  there  before,  nor  ever  expect  to  be  again,  for 
once  going  is  thought  to  be  enough  for  a  life-time. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  Jews'  habit  of  "  going 
up  to  Jerusalem  "  had  inoculated  the  race  and 
become  universal.  To  this  city  the  Magi  came 
from  far-off  Persia.  To  this  city  the  heart  of 
Europe  turned  through  the  Middle  Ages  in  pil- 
grimages   of  thousands    upon    thousands.     They 


274  Sights  and  Insights. 

went  singly  and  in  companies,  begging  in  their 
poverty,  or  spending  their  wealtn  ;  went  when  the 
difficulties  and  dangers  were  so  great  that,  of  a 
company  of  seven  thousand,  only  two  thousand 
could  be  expected  to  return.  Then  they  went 
armed,  and  the  Crusades  were  inaugurated,  which 
were  only  pilgrimages  under  arms.  And  now  the 
only  signs  of  enterprise  about  the  city  are  exhibited 
in  those  vast  establishments  that  have  been  erected 
to  take  care  of  the  pilgrims  that  once  a  year  make 
the  desolate  streets  of  Jerusalem  thronged  as  at  a 
Passover.  It  is  the  holy  city  of  the  Jew,  who  would 
be  glad  to  buy  the  right  to  own  and  rule  it  at  any 
price.  It  is  a  holy  city  of  the  Moslem,  who  would 
not  sell  or  yield  it  on  any  condition.  It  does  seem 
as  if  the  great  sacrifice  of  Christ  for  man's  good 
had  enshrined  this  place  in  the  warmest  affections 
of  the  human  heart.  What  a  pity  that  this  great 
annual  gathering  could  not  be  made  to  conduce 
to  union,  and  not  to  scorn — a  kind  of  universal 
Evangelical  Alliance.  Who  shall  say  man  has  not 
a  deeply  religious  nature  ? 

It  is  fortunate  that  the  Greek  and  Latin  Easters 
do  not  occur  on  the  same  week.  As  it  is,  the 
Latins  can  crucify  their  wooden  image,  take  it 
down  from  the  cross,  anoint  it  on  the  stone  of  unc- 
tion, put  it  in  the  tomb,  and    perform  all  other 


Pilgrims.  275 

spectacular  pageants  one  week,  and  leave  the  place 
for  the  Greeks  to  hold  their  powwows  the  next. 
It  is  fortunate  that  the  Moslems  have  holy  places 
different  from  the  Christians.  They  go  to  the 
pretended  tomb  of  Moses,  on  this  side  Jordan, 
for  purposes  similar  to  those  which  bring  Christians 
to  the  supposed  tomb  of  Christ.  Either  by  provi- 
dential foresight,  or  by  remarkable  coincidence, 
the  pilgrimage  takes  place  at  the  Greek  Easter. 
It  is  escorted  out  of  St.  Stephen's  Gate  at  the  east 
of  the  city  by  all  the  military  power  of  the  Gov- 
ernor, and  with  as  much  eclat  as  possible.  If,  as 
the  Moslems  constantly  fear,  a  pilgrimage  of  the 
Christians  should  at  any  time  become  a  crusade 
for  the  capture  of  Jerusalem,  there  would  be  a 
force  of  fanatics  at  hand  to  defend  the  city. 

These  pilgrims  are  a  study.  They  are  of  all 
ages  and  conditions.  The  old  gray-haired  sire, 
who  has  been  deprived  of  this  priceless  opportu- 
nity through  a  long  life,  finding  his  opportunity 
at  last,  gathers  up  his  staff,  and,  uncertain  whether 
he  shall  ever  return,  sets  out  on  his  long-deferred 
quest.  The  mother  takes  her  little  babe  in  her 
arms  that  she  may  dip  it  beneath  the  sacred  Jor- 
dan, or  let  it  breathe  the  holy  fire  that  cleanses 
away  its  stains.  Young  married  couples  often 
take  the  pilgrimage  for  a  wedding  journey.     At 


276  Sights  and  Insights. 

the  time  of  their  coming  and  going  every  steam- 
er swarms  with  them,  as  the  Egyptians  did  with 
something  else  during  the  third  plague.  Under 
and  upper-deck,  the  top  of  the  caboose,  the  in- 
side of  every  boat  and  the  grating  on  which  it 
rests,  quarter-deck,  and  forecastle,  are  covered 
so  thickly  that  they  scarcely  attempt  to  move 
at  all.  There  they  sit  by  day,  there  they  recline 
at  night,  and  there  they  take  their  meals.  Who- 
ever tries  to  get  about  the  deck  steps  between 
the  feet  of  a  toothless  old  crone,  strides  over 
a  curled-up  heap  of  rags,  crowds  through  a  doz- 
en who  have  got  on  their  feet,  trips  here,  and 
stumbles  there,  catching  himself  by  a  rope,  or 
falling  into  the  general  wriggling  mass,  conscious 
all  the  while  that  the  ship  no  more  swarms 
with  them  than  they  swarm  with  fleas  and  other 
equally  detestable  vermin.  Six  hundred  were 
thus  stowed  away,  and  piled  up  on  board  our 
little  Austrian  Lloyd.  It  was  so  crowded  that 
it  could  only  give  us  two  beds  for  five  persons. 

When  I  heard  that  seventeen,  who  tried  to  take 
the  boat  at  Jaffa,  had  been  dashed  on  the  rocks 
by  the  surf  and  drowned,  my  feelings  were  touched. 
Yes,  I  felt — that  there  was  so  much  more  room  on 
board. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  large  old  Greek  woman, 


A  Pilgrimage.  277 

who  had  been  smuggled  into  the  cabin  by  her  well- 
to-do  son.  She  sat  opposite  us,  and  next  to  a 
young  exquisite.  She  weighed  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  and  ate  accordingly.  She  would 
look  up  to  her  elegant  neighbor  with  a  smile  like 
a  dimple  in  a  platter  of  jelly,  and  take  any  thing 
off  his  plate  without  so  much  as  saying,  "  By  your 
leave."  He  tried  to  be  polite,  and  we  tried  to  be 
decently  sober  ;  neither  succeeded.  But  she  never 
took  the  hint.  She  took  the  provisions  instead. 
While  we  were  laughing,  we  found  to  our  horror 
that  the  plate  of  figs  that  was  to  serve  for  a  dessert 
after  the  courses,  was  being  rapidly  emptied  be- 
fore the  time.  One  of  our  party  removed  it  be- 
yond her  reach.  She  did  not  take  the  hint,  but 
took  a  fork  and  went  for  it.  Then  the  plate 
went  beyond  the  range  of  any  of  her  supplemented 
capabilities ;  she  looked  surprised,  but  I  do  not 
think  she  ever  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
movement.  She  ate  with  her  fingers,  and  licked 
them  clean  as  complacently  as  a  kitten  does  its 
paws.  I  could  not  see  that  her  pilgrimage  had 
done  her  much  good,  for  she  clandestinely  stole 
what  she  had  a  perfect  right  to  take.  But  possi- 
bly there  was  so  much  of  her  that  it  would  take 
five  or  six  pilgrimages  to  pickle  her  clear  through. 

I  got  on  such  intimate  terms  with  one  old  pil- 

18 


278  Sights  and  Insights. 

grim  at  Jerusalem  that  I  obtained  his  picture.  He 
is  a  type  of  a  class.  Many  are  obliged  to  obtain 
by  charity  the  means  of  support.  They  sit  for 
hours  motionless  in  the  hot  sun  on  the  burned 
earth.  The  hair  sometimes  grows  all  over  their 
exposed  backs  and  breasts,  completely  hiding  the 
skin  from  sight.  It  occurred  to  me  that  in  the 
rarity  of  Christian,  or  heathen,  charity  they 
were  obliged  to  eat  greens,  as  Nebuchadnezzar 
did,  and  their  pin  feathers  were  beginning  to 
sprout. 


S74S 


The  Old  Pilgrim. 


XXXVI. 

HUMAN    NATURE. 

jjLT  is  a  great  thing.  We  were  going  this  morn- 
Qgi  ing  to  see  the  place  when  the  vast  empire  of 
a  single  man  held  more  unclean  spirits  than 
two  thousand  swine  could  carry.  But  we  have 
found  a  vaster  possession  here.  There  is  our  Jew 
guide,  Moses,  besides  all  the  concentrated  contrari- 
ness of  his  race,  besides  absorbing  all  the  obstinacy 
of  the  region,  so  that  our  very  mules  are  meek, 
and  Marmoud,  master  of  horse,  is  amiable — has  be- 
come suddenly  possessed  with  I  know  not  how 
many  stubborn  devils  of  disobedience,  and  we 
cannot  cast  them  out.  They  are  the  kind  that  go 
not  out  except  by  prayer  and  fasting.  Moses 
wont  do  either,  and  we  have  no  spirit  for  the  first 
nor  time  for  the  second.  Our  tents  were  all 
struck,  and  we  ready  for  the  saddle,  when  the  spirits 
seized  him,  and  he  declared  he  would  not  go  a 
step.  They  were  the  pious  kind  of  devils.  He 
declared  that,  since  it  was  Saturday,  his  religion 
forbade  to  include  the  distance  from  Nazareth,  via 


282  Sights  and  Insights. 

Tabor,  to  Tiberias  in  a  Sabbath-day's  journey. 
He  declared  that  all  the  money  in  Palestine  could 
not  induce  him  to  violate  his  conscience  ;  and 
when  our  Sheik's  cane  was  nourishing  about  his 
ears,  confessed  himself  "  an  old  Jew,"  and  ready 
to  die  for  his  religion. 

I  never  understood  before  why  some  tribes  are 
accustomed  to  beat  those  whom  they  suppose  to 
be  possessed  of  devils.  I  confess  it  then  seemed 
the  most  natural  thing  to  do.  But  we  turned  him 
over  to  "  the  government  man  "  to  compel  him  to 
fulfill  his  contract,  and  an  hour  after  all  the 
obstinacy  returned  to  our  mules  and  Marmoud, 
and  we  Gentiles  were  following  a  meek  Moses 
toward  Tabor  and  out  of  Canaan. 

I  made  another  discovery  in  this  vast  domain 
recently.  I  saw  some  little  children  making  up 
all  sorts  of  contemptuous  faces  at  our  party,  in- 
cluding the  venerable  Sheik,  Brother  Elliot.  I 
could  not  understand  it.  I  first  supposed  the 
pitiable  things  had  the  St.  Vitus'  Dance.  But  hav- 
ing been  spit  at  and  hit  with  their  spiteful  little 
fists  a  few  times  I  began  to  take  the  hint.  It 
dawned  on  me  that  we  were  objects  of  scorn  and 
spitting  to  those  vermin  that  swarmed  about  us. 
It  was  an  astonishment.  I  had  supposed  that  we 
were  Christian  gentlemen,  and  citizens  of  the  uni- 


Human  Nature.  283 

versal  Yankee  nation;  but  we  were  nothing  but 
"  Christian  dogs."  I  think  that  if  a  new  crusade 
to  exterminate  the  holders  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
had  been  preached  then  and  there,  five  enlistments 
would  have  been  made  on  the  spot. 

Afterward  I  thought  it  out.  These  Arabs  are  a 
free,  wild  race.  They  have  ruled  very  widely. 
They  had  but  to  rally  to  the  cry  "  There  is  no  God 
but  God,"  etc.,  and  they  swept  three  continents. 
I  am  amazed  when  I  remember  how  widely  this 
little  peninsula  of  Arabia  once  ruled.  East  as  far 
as  India ;  south  and  west,  to  the  heart  of  Africa 
and  the  Atlantic.  They  overran  the  south  of 
Europe  for  a  century,  and  they  believe  that  the 
crescent  became  decrescent  only  after  being  full, 
and,  in  obedience  to  infinite  fate,  will  soon  begin 
to  fill  again.     I  do  not  wonder  at  their  pride. 

What  have  they  known  of  the  people  they  de- 
spise? They  have  abused  the  Jews,  and  hence 
despised  them.  How  could  they  help  doing  the 
first,  or  last  ?  The  Jews  claimed  the  city  that 
was  holy  in  the  eyes  of  the  Moslems.  Unable  to 
conquer  it,  they  were  willing  to  pay  any  price  for  the 
privilege  of  crawling  in  its  dust  and  kissing  its 
stones.  It  would  not  be  in  human  nature,  espe- 
cially Arab,  to  refuse,  and  to  make  the  price  ex- 
orbitant.    Again,  the  Jews  who  resort  to  Jerusa- 


284  Sights  and  Insights. 

lem  are  the  greatest  temptation  toward  despising 
a  brother,  a  man  ever  encountered.  Many  of  them 
are  the  broken-down  sinners  of  the  race,  from  ail 
countries,  going  back  to  spend  the  wretched  rem- 
nant of  their  lives  in  expiation.  I  shared  the 
Arab  feeling  toward  them,  till  I  remembered  I  had 
a  better  teaching  and  a  diviner  example. 

Then  the  Arabs  have  had  some  dealings  with 
my  brother  Christians.  They  have  been  swarming 
to  Jerusalem  for  six  centuries  as  purposeless  pil- 
grims, dirty  and  beggarly  ;  or,  as  soldiers,  to  wrest 
from  them  their  acquired  or  rightful  possessions. 
The  Arabs  carried  the  palm  in  fighting,  the  cru- 
saders in  lying  and  truce-breaking. 

The  Christians  have  also  dwelt  in  their  midst 
for  a  time  sufficient  to  enable  a  moderately  quick- 
witted Arab  to  judge  of  their  excellence.  They 
are  in  Jerusalem  and  in  Bethlehem  as  two  hostile 
and  rival  sects,  ready  to  fly  at  each  other's  throats 
for  the  least  advantage  over  each  other,  or  to  com- 
bine for  the  least  advantage  over  the  Arab.  A 
few  days  before  I  was  in  Bethlehem  the  Latin  and 
Greek  monks  fought  each  other  in  the  Church  of 
the  Nativity.  A  few  days  after  they  combined  and 
fought  the  authorities,  strewing  the  Church  with 
the  torn-down  finery,  smashed  lamps,  and  fourteen 
dead  bodies.      The  Turks  know  that  the  pretext 


Human  Nature,  285 

of  the  Czar  for  attacking  Turkey  in  the  Crimean 
war  arose  out  of  a  contest  about  which  sect  should 
repair  the  dome  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sep- 
ulchre. The  Arab  sees  Christians  as  two  hostile 
sects,  between  which  he  stands  to  keep  them  from 
devouring  each  other. 

When  I  looked  down  on  the  Turkish  soldiers 
preserving  order  at  the  pretended  descent  of  the 
Holy  Fire,  keeping  them  from  enacting  the  crushes 
and  slaughters  of  former  years,  I  said,  You  have  a 
right  to  despise  such  hideous  mockeries,  cheats, 
and  the  people  that  do  them.  Children  of  He- 
bron, you  may  spit  at  me,  my  race  deserves 
it ;  and  I  wont  enlist  in  a  crusade  for  your 
annihilation. 

How  we  shall  eradicate  this  contempt  that  has 
been  bred  in  the  bone,  taught  by  history,  and 
strengthened  by  experience,  and  get  them  to  ac- 
cept us  as  their  teachers  and  leaders,  I  do  not 
exactly  see.  Perhaps  the  English  method  of 
sending  physicians  and  teachers  among  them,  who 
shall  freely  cure  their  bodies  and  enlighten  their 
minds,  is  after  all  the  quickest  way. 

When  I  went  out  of  the  streets  of  Jerusalem, 
from  among  the  dirty,  sore-eyed,  ragged,  ignorant 
children,  who  despised  us  "  Christian  dogs,"  into 
the  schools  of  Bishop  Gobat,  and  saw  the  bright- 


286  Sights  and  Insights. 

faced,  clear-eyed,  well-dressed  children,  I  could 
but  ask,  "  Are  these  the  children  of  the  favored  and 
rich  citizens  ?  "  "  O  no,  they  are  jewels  picked  out 
of  the  mire  of  the  streets."  The  first  thing  Chris- 
tianity does  for  them  is  the  same  that  Jesus  did 
for  the  blind  man.  It  says,  "  Go,  wash."  The 
next  thing,  naturally,  is  the  same  that  came  to 
the  demoniac.  He  was  found  "clothed."  I  trust 
that  all  else  may  follow :  that,  whereas  they  have 
been  blind,  they  may  see,  and  be  in  their  right 
minds.  These  schools  in  Jerusalem,  Nablous,  and 
Nazareth,  are  the  most  promising  features  of  what 
our  Sheik  was  wont  to  call  a  "  God-forsaken 
country."  May  they  soon  bring  God  back  into 
the  land  where  his  brightest  glories  have  been 
shown ! 

Another  aspect  of  this  kaleidoscopic  human 
nature  flashed  on  me  in  Cairo.  I  went  to  see  the 
howling  dervishes.  Now,  it  is  a  fitting  thing  to 
bow  before  God,  and  to  call  upon  his  name. 
These  men  bow  till  their  long  hair  sweeps  the 
pavement,  then  throw  themselves  erect  with  such 
force,  that  their  hair  ends  fly  eighteen  inches 
above  their  heads.  At  the  same  time  they  shout 
"  Allah  "  in  concert,  and  with  such  vehemence  of 
utterance  that  the  din  is  something  terrific.  Think 
of  thirty  men  in  a  half  circle  going  through  this 


Human  Nature.  287 

exercise  with  the  utmost  rapidity,  in  perfect  time, 
and  under  a  master  of  ceremonies,  who  regulates 
it  all.  Occasionally  he  beckons  a  particularly 
zealous  person  to  come  inside,  who  extends  his 
arms  horizontally,  and  whirls  round  so  rapidly 
that  his  hair  stands  out  in  a  straight  line  parallel 
to  his  arms.  This  exercise  continued  for  half  an 
hour.  Perspiration  poured  off  the  actors  in 
streams.  Occasionally  one  would  become  insane, 
and  his  movements  spasmodic.  He  was  then 
thrown  upon  the  floor  by  the  men  appointed  to 
care  for  such.  His  breathing  was  fearfully  ster- 
torous, and  his  violent  movements  threatened  to 
dash  his  brains  out  on  the  pavement.  One  man 
sat  on  his  chest  to  moderate  his  breathing,  and 
another  held  his  head.  Not  in  the  least  was  the 
violent  motion  of  the  performers  decreased,  or 
their  resonant  shout  lessened.  Indeed,  I  think 
each  one  desired  to  come  into  that  condition  as  a 
kind  of  ecstasy.  Of  all  hideous  worship,  short  of 
burning  human  sacrifices,  the  worst  I  have  seen 
is  that  of  the  howling  dervishes.  I  think  they 
ought  to  be  designated  by  the  omission  of  the  r 
and  the  last  three  letters  of  their  name  and  the 
addition  of  an  1. 

Coming  out  from  this  den,  I  saw  a  more  pleas- 
ing specimen  of  human  nature.     It  was  a  runner 


288  Sights  and  Insights. 

before  a  royal  carriage.  He  was  dressed  in  a  pure 
white  robe  of  ample  dimensions.  He  was  san- 
daled with  red,  and  his  legs  bare  to  the  knee.  In 
his  hand  he  carried  a  light  wand,  and  his  business 
was  to  give  warning  in  the  busy  street  of  the 
swift  coming  of  the  carriage.  How  lightly  he  ran. 
How  vigorously  and  cheerily  he  cried.  He  never 
seemed  to  want  for  breath,  to  put  his  foot  down 
heavily,  or  take  it  up  wearily.  He  was  a  perfect 
human  gazelle.  I  knew  what  the  singer  in  the 
Canticles  meant  when  she  said  her  beloved  was 
like  a  roe,  leaping  upon  the  mountains,  and  skip- 
ping upon  the  hills. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  human  nature  in  Euro- 
pean people,  and  they  are  not  afraid  to  show  it. 
We  were  approaching  Vienna  in  the  cars.  There 
was  a  young  man  in  our  compartment  who  was 
suffering  an  ecstasy  of  agony  from  a  cinder  in 
his  eye.  A  man  six  feet  from  him  told  him  to 
pull  the  upper  lid  far  down  over  the  lower,  hold 
it  there  a  minute,  and  he  would  find  relief.  He 
did  so,  opened  his  eye,  and  felt  no  pain.  He 
turned  to  his  informant  and  said,  "  I  thank  you." 
Then  he  gave  a  couple  of  winks,  looked  out  of 
the  window  to  try  his  eye,  and  was  so  much  re- 
lieved that  he  waved  his  hand  to  his  friend  in  need, 
and  said,  "  A  hundred  thanks  !  " 


Human  Nature.  289 

He  soon  discovered  that  he  had  not  done  justice 
to  the  subject.  He  was  wholly  cured.  His  face 
grew  radiant  as  he  left  his  seat,  seized  the  kind 
stranger  round  the  neck,  kissed  him  on  both 
cheeks,  and  said,  "  Ten  thousand  thanks !  you 
have  cured  me." 

Since  that  time  I  have  told  many  American 
people,  both  gentlemen  and  ladies,  how  to  get 
cinders  out  of  their  eyes,  but  they  have  never 
thanked  me  in  that  way. 

Strangers  often  commence  an  acquaintance  by 
showing  you  a  hotel  bill,  in  which  is  put  down 
every  glass  of  lager,  and  other  less  important  pro- 
visions, for  the  purpose  of  warning  you  against  a 
hotel  where  they  charge  a  groschen  too  much.  An 
American  at  home  would  scorn  to  call  all  the  men 
in  the  office  to  join  in  a  protest  against  what  he 
deems  an  exorbitant  charge.  He  would  not  have 
it  presumed  that  he  could  not  pay  any  charge  the 
landlord  could  make.  He  thrusts  his  hand  deep 
into  his  pocket,  pays  the  bill,  and  says  to  himself, 
"  I'll  never  go  to  that  hotel  again,"  and  goes 
there  the  next  time  he  visits  the  place. 

The  worship  of  the  almighty  dollar  is  a  char- 
acteristic of  universal  human  nature.  In  Eu- 
rope, however,  it  is  not  fully  developed ;  they 
worship  centimes,  kreutzers,  pfennings,  and  such 


290  Sights  and  Insights. 

infinitesimal  fractions  of  a  cent.  I  once  bought 
some  cherries  in  the  street  for  a  third  of  a  cent. 
Turning  them  out,  I  discovered  that  all  the  good 
ones  had  been  put  on  top.  I  paid  three  kreutzers 
for  some  nice  strawberries  one  day,  and  my  seat- 
mate,  seeing  how  nice  they  were,  paid  ten  times 
as  much  for  a  basket  full  of  them  ;  but,  having 
taken  off  the  first  layer,  found  that  they  were  like 
the  fig-tree  in  the  Scriptures,  nothing  but  leaves. 
As  the  train  moved  right  off,  he  had  only  a  bur- 
dock basket  and  the  laugh  of  the  passengers  for 
his  money.  I  had  the  same  trick  played  on  me 
months  afterward  by  a  girl,  whose  sweet  face  be- 
guiled me  from  all  thought  that  she  could  cheat. 

I  wrote  the  heading  of  this  chapter,  "  Men  which 
I  have  met,"  in  imitation  of  an  article  I  once  saw 
entitled  "  Dogs  whom  I  have  met."  But  I  have 
grown  into  a  more  genial  mood  as  my  pen  has  run 
along  these  later  pages.  I  believe  a  fair  propor- 
tion of  human  nature  is  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous, and  it  is  by  no  means  so  small  a  proportion 
as  Mr.  Gradgrind  imagined.  I  beg  pardon,  Mr. 
•Gradgrind  never  imagined  any  thing.  I  have  long 
since  forgiven  Moses  and  the  sunny-faced  girl  on 
the  Wengern  Alp,  and  would  be  willing  to  give 
them  an  opportunity  to  try  it  again. 


XXXVII. 

OUR  LAST  RIDE  IN  SYRIA. 

TRAIGHT  into  the  gorge  of  the  Barada 
Wf  (Abana),  to  the  west  of  Damascus,  runs  the 
excellent  road  to  Beirut.  We  could  not 
tolerate  such  an  impertinence  as  a  road  in  Syria, 
and  so  we  struck  a  trail  into  the  desolate  mount- 
ains further  north.  Desolate  is  no  word  for  them. 
As  you  look  over  their  stiffened  billows,  they  seem 
never  to  have  been  kissed  by  the  sunshine  into 
blushes  of  flowers,  but  scorched,  blistered,  and 
blighted  by  its  fire.  There  is  not  a  gleam  of 
greenness  in  their  wide  miles.  The  dull,  reddish 
brown  gives  no  place  to  those  signs  of  life  that 
spring  vigorously  where  the  retreating  glacier 
only  yesterday  removed  its  cold  foot,  or  to  that 
hardier  class  of  plants  that  assert  their  right  to 
live  on  granite  peaks.  We  soon  reach  the  tomb 
of  Abel,  where  tradition  says  Cain  buried  his 
brother  after  carrying  him  five  hundred  years  on 
his  back.  If  this  cursedness  fell  on  the  place  for 
such  a  sin,  it  seems  a  fitting  location  for  the  clos- 
ing scene  of  that  first  murder. 


292  Sights  and  Insights. 

But  how  different  below.  There  is  an  island  of 
green  in  a  sea  of  desert.  The  wind  careers  over 
the  city  in  sudden  gusts.  Here  it  silvers  a  mile 
of  poplars  in  an  instant ;  there  it  tosses  the  dark 
green  of  the  English  walnut ;  yonder  it  stirs  up 
the  light  green  of  the  olive ;  every-where  it  takes 
away  for  a  moment  the  vail,  and  lets  the  thousand 
silver  streams  of  Abana  and  Pharpar  shimmer  in 
the  setting  sun.  On  the  south  is  the  desert  we 
have  traveled  ;  on  the  east,  the  deserts  of  Assyria  ; 
on  every  side,  desolation  ;  at  our  feet,  that  emblem 
of  Paradise  where  grow  all  manner  of  fruits,  and 
the  streams  of  life  make  glad  the  city.  We  turn 
away  with  a  reality  to  put  alongside  of  John's  pict- 
ure, and  heaven  will  be  more  real,  if  possible,  for 
the  vision. 

Two  vast  ranges  of  mountains,  whose  passes  are 
nearly  as  high,  and  peaks  much  higher  than  Mount 
Washington,  lie  between  us  and  the  sea.  The 
valley  of  Coele-Syria  lies  between  them.  We 
now  assault  the  first  range,  the  Anti-Lebanon. 
Our  tents  had  moved  on  hours  before.  The  guide 
and  master  of  horse  were  with  us.  After  a  couple 
of  hours  of  the  worst  scrambling  we  had  seen  we 
condescended  to  take  the  road.  Before  night  the 
winds,  that  had  played  over  Damascus  and  painted 
pictures  for   us,  roared  and  raged  at   us.     Once 


Otir  Last  Ride  in  Syria.  293 

believe  Mollis  to  be  a  god,  and  no  one  would  dare 
attempt  these  heights  in  the  face  of  such  beating 
defiance.  Rain  was  soon  added ;  but  we  took  our 
gum-coats  from  the  saddle-bow,  our  shawls  from 
the  seat,  and  defied  the  blast.  But  at  length  it 
grew  so  fierce  that  the  rain  cut  the  face  like  small 
hail.  We  could  scarcely  sit  upon  our  horses ; 
they  could  hardly  be  compelled  to  face  it.  Every 
few  minutes  they  would  wheel  round  to  avoid  its 
fury.  After  two  hours  of  breasting  the  cold  tem- 
pest we  found  a  little  shelter,  and  very  little  it 
was.  After  a  trifling  abatement  we  pushed  on  to 
our  tents,  and  spent  the  evening  in  speculating  on 
the  weakness  of  tent-ropes  and  the  strength  of 
wind.  In  the  morning  the  peaks  about  us  glittered 
with  abundant  snow — a  decided  change  from  nine- 
ty-six degrees  in  the  shade,  where  we  had  panted 
in  the  sirocco  of  the  desert  a  few  days  before. 

We  willingly  waited  for  sunshine  that  morning 
— sunshine  that  had  made  such  progress  toward 
nigritude  on  our  face  and  hands  that  we  had  ceased 
to  speculate  on  how  long  it  would  take  us  to  be- 
come as  brown  as  Arabs  or  black  as  Nubians, 
and  only  wondered  whether  we  should  ever  ap- 
proximate white  men  again.  Yes,  we  waited  for 
it ;  welcomed  it ;  bathed  hands  and  face  in  its 
warmth ;  and,  standing  amid  the  glittering  peaks 


294  Sights  and  Insights. 

of  a  sudden  winter,  thanked  God  for  the  "  forces 
of  a  sunbeam." 

We  soon  reached  the  summit.  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is,  but  there  is  a  perpetual  charm  about 
mountains. 

"  There  is  an  ampler  ether,  a  diviner  air."  The 
element  of  variety  exists  in  almost  endless  devel- 
opment. You  scale  one  pass  or  peak  with  infinite 
labor  one  day,  but  you  are  lured  irresistibly  to 
scale  another  the  next  day.  Gorges,  peaks,  pla- 
teaus, precipices,  hold  and  thrill  one  with  a  sense 
of  sublime  power,  and  make  him  feel  like  a  Titan, 
able  to  toss  and  hurl  these  mountains  in  his  own 
hands.  Then  to  come  down  into  a  valley  is  like 
a  panorama.  It  is  at  first  too  distant  to  distin- 
guish anything  but  general  features — its  vast  fields 
of  variegated  color  only  blend  to  make  one  pict- 
ure ;  but  hour  by  hour,  as  you  wind  down  the 
mountain  side,  new  revelations  appear ;  you  fill 
your  majestic  outlines  with  individual  beauties, 
and  populate  it  with  human  life  and  love.  So,  for 
hours,  we  came  down  into  that  most  beautiful  val- 
ley of  Central  Syria.  It  vividly  called  up  Hol- 
yoke,  Wyoming,  Meiringen,  and  a  dozen  brain- 
pictures  God  has  given  me,  to  hint  what  more 
glorious  landscapes  he  can  make  in  a  perfect 
world. 


Our  Last  Ride  in  Syria.  295 

Far  over  the  plain  we  saw  a  single  horseman 
galloping  toward  us.  Almost  before  I  realized  it 
Rev.  Mr.  Dale,  missionary  from  Philadelphia  to 
Zahleh,  had  us  by  the  hand.  We  had  telegraphed 
him  from  Damascus,  and  he  had  ridden  about  ten 
miles  to  meet  us.  I  was  pleased  to  find  him  full 
of  enthusiasm  in  his  slow  work.  He  has  not  yet 
learned  to  speak  to  those  he  comes  to  show  the 
way  of  life,  but  he  calls  these  people  "  my  natives," 
as  if  already  converted. 

Great  success  has  attended  the  labor  of  the 
American  Board  in  Syria.  Dr.  Thomson  has 
been  here  forty  years.  They  establish  schools 
and  Churches  wherever  occasion  demands  or  their 
means  permit.  They  practice  the  regular  Method- 
ist tactics  of  circuits  and  an  itinerant  ministry. 
The  slaughters  and  civil  war  of  i860  so  broke  the 
spirit  of  the  people  that  Christianity  has  been  ac- 
cepted much  more  readily  since.  "  Humility  is 
so  sweet  when  pride  is  impossible."  We  reluc- 
tantly bade  our  brother  adieu  on  the  road,  left  him 
alone  in  that  oasis  of  nature  but  desert  of  grace, 
and  began  an  evening  climb  on  the  west  side  of 
the  valley  whose  eastern  slope  we  had  descended 
in  the  morning.  We  did  not  pitch  camp  till  quite 
late.     We  lived  among  the  stars  again  that  night. 

Next  morning  the  horses  came  out  fresh  and 

19 


296  Sights  and  Insights. 

frisky.  We  were  to  dip  our  faces  in  the  sea  be- 
foie  noon.  In  an  hour  we  looked  out  between 
the  snowy  peaks,  and  the  sea  was  at  our  feet. 
The  white  houses  of  Beirut  gleamed  in  the  dark 
green  of  fig,  orange,  palm,  and  mulberry  trees.  It 
looked  about  five  miles  away,  but  it  was  twenty- 
five.  Down  the  slopes  of  Lebanon,  through  ter- 
raced vineyards,  picturesque  scenery,  varying 
tints  of  verdure,  as  we  neared  the  tropic  plain,  we 
came  with  exuberant  shout  and  song,  entering 
Beirut  about  noon. 

I  parted  from  my  horse  with  sincere  regret. 
He  had  carried  me  four  hundred  and  thirty  miles 
without  a  balk.  He  never  went  back  on  me,  as 
he  had  ample  opportunity  when  going  up  hills 
that  nearly  approached  the  perpendicular,  nor 
tossed  me  over  his  head  in  going  down.  And 
whenever  there  was  a  spot  half  level  and  smooth 
enough  for  a  little  race,  and  he  wanted  to  dash 
ahead,  I  never  curbed  his  impetuous  spirit,  nor 
tried  to  prevent  his  evident  satisfaction  at  always 
coming  out  decidedly  ahead.  Nay,  I  ever  en- 
couraged him  with  my  good  wishes.  May  he 
always  find  plentiful  provender,  and  riders  in  no 
wise  averse  to  his  best  ambition ! 

Mingled  feelings  possess  me  as  I  now  find  my 
tour  in  Palestine  a  thing  of  the  past — a  memory, 


Our  Last  Ride  in  Syria.  297 

and  not  an  anticipation.  My  twenty-one  days  in 
the  saddle  have  been  a  most  exuberant  physical 
life.  Suns  and  storms,  mountains  and  plains,  wild 
gorge  and  terrible  desert,  have  all  stood  as  minis- 
ters of  an  enthusiasm  that  never  faltered,  an  in- 
spiration that  never  was  withdrawn.  History  has 
unrolled  its  centuries  before  my  eyes.  Man's  most 
majestic  monuments  have  proclaimed  his  great- 
ness; their  wrecked  remains  have  equally  pro- 
claimed its  limit.  Philosophy  has  stood  by  my 
side,  announcing  but  few  principles,  but  silently 
pointing  at  the  pregnant  examples  that  history 
marshals.  Nations  gather  the  strength  of  hoary 
centuries,  only  to  rush  to  a  surer  ruin ;  vast,  un- 
counted hosts  shake  the  plain  with  their  tread  at 
evening,  but  in  the  morning  they  are  dead  men. 
The  scenes  shift  as  in  a  dream,  but  they  change 
what  has  seemed  like  dreams  and  pictures  into 
realities.  The  traces  of  individuals  on  three  con- 
tinents have  changed  the  almost  mythic  Alexan- 
ders and  Napoleons  into  ubiquitous  Titans,  toy- 
ing with  the  blended  powers  of  individuals,  races, 
and  empires.  These  figures  of  history  stalk  like 
great  Colossi,  holding  a  whole  sheaf  of  scepters,  rul- 
ing many  empires,  treading  down  individuals,  ful- 
filling manifest  destiny ;  but  they  stalk  the  sooner 
off  the  stage. 


298  Sights  and  Insights. 

Most  of  all  has  the  panorama  of  divine  mani- 
festation been  unrolled.  The  holy  places  of  earth 
are  pictured  in  my  memory ;  places  of  God's  hail- 
ing wrath,  of  falling  fire,  of  distilling  dew,  of 
heaven's  curtains  opening  to  take  in  the  ascending 
spirit,  or  to  let  out  a  view  of  its  glory — places 
where  the  touch  of  finger  or  thrill  of  voice  upon 
the  liquid  air  have  sent  warm  life  under  the  ribs 
of  death ;  and  especially  that  place  where  Death 
exhausted  all  its  power  on  such  fullness  of  life  as 
left  an  infinite  surplus  to  flow  down  to  all  the  dy- 
ing sinners  of  the  race.  Not  only  do  these  pict- 
ures all  stand  before  me,  but  with  almost  equal 
delight  rises  that  other  place  where  Divine  author- 
ity said,  "  The  hour  now  is,  when  the  true  wor- 
shipers shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in 
truth."  Thus  in  the  very  locality  of  the  holy 
places  themselves,  the  glorious  doctrine  of  the 
holiness  of  every  place  was  announced.  Every 
hill  is  Bethel ;  every  mountain  is  Dothan. 


Homeward  Bound.  290 


HOMEWARD    BOUND. 

NEARING  THE  PORT. 

The  land-breeze  comes,  a  fragrant  gale ; 

The  watery  tinge  has  left  the  sky  ; 
To-morrow's  morning  shall  unvail 

The  land  so  sought  by  every  eye. 

Below  the  near  horizon's  bound 

Are  homes  our  yearning  hearts  survey, 

Familiar  faces,  hallowed  ground, 
And  welcomes  worth  a  year's  delay. 

Thus  gales  breathe  hints  of  heavenly  shores  ; 

Earth's  skies  are  daily  lifted  higher ; 
And  sunsets  seem  like  opening  doors 

To  seas  of  mingled  glass  and  fire. 

Life's  journeys  close,  and  friends  seem  near, 
Long  missed,  but  waiting  us  in  peace  ; 

Eternal  mansions,  welcomes  rare, 

God's  love,  and  ceaseless  joy's  increase. 


THE    END. 


PUBLISHED  BY  NELSON  &  PHILLIPS, 

805   Broadway,  N".  Y. 
•♦• 

BIOGEAPHY. 

Abbott,  Rev.  Benjamin, 

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ings on  steel,  executed  by  the  best  American  artists. 
Imperial  8vo.  Printed  on  beautifully  tinted  paper. 
Turkey  morocco,  gilt  edge  and  beveled  boards $20  00 

Chalmers,  Thomas, 

A  Biographical  Study.    By  Jas.  Dodds.    Large  16mo.    1  60 

Christianity  Tested  by  Eminent  Men, 

Being  Brief  Sketches  of  Christian  Biography.  By 
Meeeitt  Caldwell,  A.M.    16mo 0  60 

Clarke,  Dr.  A., 

Life  of.    12mo 1  50 

Clarke,  Dr.  Adam, 

Life  of.    New.    By  J.  W.  Etheeidge,  M.A.    12mo..    175 
Half  Calf 2  25 

Clark,  Rev.  John, 

Life  of.    By  Rev.  B.  M.  Hall.    12mo 125 

Cromwell,  Oliver, 

Life  of.    By  Charles  Adams,  D.D.     16mo 1  25 

Dan  Young, 

Autobiography  of.  By"W.  P.  Stbickland,D.D.  12mo.    1  75 

Early  Crowned. 

A  Memoir  of  Mary  E.  North.    16mo 1  25 

Emory,  Bishop, 

Life  of.    ByE.  Emoet.    8vo 176 

Episcopius, 

Life  of.    By  Eeedeeic  Caldee.    12mo. . .     1  20 

Fletcher,  John, 

Life  of.    By  Rev.  Joseph  Benson.    12mo 1  25 

Fletcher,  Mrs.  Mary, 

Life  of.    By  Kev.  H.  Mooee.    12mo 150 

Garrettson,  Rev.  Freeborn, 

Life  of    By  N.  Bangs,  D.D.    12mo 100 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— BIOGRAPHY. 

Fletcher,  Mrs.  Mary,  Life  of, 

By  Rev.  H.  Moore.    l2mo $1  50 

Garrettson,  Rev.  Freeborn, 

Life  of.    By  Nathan  Bangs,  D.D.    12mo 1  00 

Gatch,  Rev.  P., 

Sketch  of.    By  Judge  M'Lean.    16mo 0  50 

Gruber,  Jacob, 

Life  of.    By  W.  P.  Strickland,  D.D.    l2mo 1  75 

Hamline,  Bishop, 

Life  and  Letters  of.     l2mo . . . . 2  25 

Htdding,  Bishop, 

Life  and  Times  of.    By  D.  W.  Clark,  D.D.      Large 

12mo 2  25 

Gilt 2  75 

Half  calf. 3  00 

Heroes  of  Methodism, 

By  Rev.  J.  B.  "Wakeley.    12mo 175 

Lewis,  Samuel, 

Biography  of.     l2mo 1  25 

Lives  of  the  Popes. 

12mo 1  75 

Maxwell,  Lady, 

Life  of.    By  Bev.  John  Lancaster.    12mo 125 

Methodism,  Women  of, 

By  Rev.  Abel  Stevens,  LL.D.    12mo 1  50 

Gilt  edge 2  00 

Moore,  Rev.  Henry, 

Life  of.    By  Mrs.  R.  Smith.    12mo 0  90 

Mother  of  the  Wesley s,  the. 

By  Rev.  John  Kirk.    12mo 2  00 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— BIOGRAPHY. 

Nelson,  John, 

Journal  of.    18mo $0  50 

New  England  Divines, 

Sketches  of.    By  Rev.  D.  Shebman-.    12mo 1  75 

Ouseley,  Rev.  Gideon, 

Memoir  of.    By  Rev.  W.  Reilly.    18mo 0  65 

Gilt 1  25 

Pillars  in  the  Temple; 

Or,  Lives  of  Deceased  Laymen  of  the  M.  E.  Church 
Distinguished  for  their  Piety  and  Usefulness.  By 
Rev.  W.  C.  Smith.  With  an  Introduction  by  C.  C. 
Nobth.      Large  16mo.,  pp.  366 1  25 

Pioneer,  Autobiography  of  a, 

By  Jacob  Young.     12mo 175 

Roberts,  Bishop, 

Life  of.     By  C.  Elliott,  D.D.    12mo 100 

Rogers,  Hester  Ann, 

Life  of.    l8mo 0  65 

Smith,  Rev.  John, 

Memoirs  of.    By  Rev.  R.  Tbeffby.     18mo 0  75 

Successful  Merchant,  the. 

By  Rev.  "William  Arthur,  A.M.    16mo 1  00 

Village  Blacksmith,  the. 

18mo 0  75 

Wall 's  End  Miner,  the, 

Or,  A  Brief  Memoir  of  the  Life  of  William  Criste. 

By  Rev.  J.  Evebett.     18mo 0  50 

Walker,  Rev.  G.  W., 

Recollections  of.     By  M.  P.  Gaddis.    12mo 1  75 

Watson,  Rev.  Richard, 

Life  of.    By  Rev.  T.  Jaokson.    With  Portrait.     8vo.     2  75 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

Wesley  and  his  Coadjutors. 

By  Rev.  Wm.  C.  Larrabee.    Two  volumes.    16mo..  $2  25 

Wesley  Fai?iily* 

Memoirs  of  the.    By  Rev.  A.  Clarke,  LL.D.    12mo.    1  75 

Wesley ',  Rev.  Charles, 

Life  of.    By  Rev.  T.  Jackson.    With  Portrait.    8vo.    2  70 

Wesley,  Rev.  John, 

Life  of.    By  Rev.  Richard  Watson.    12mo 1  25 


DOCTRINAL. 

Admonitory  Counsels  to  a  Methodist. 

Illustrating  the  Peculiar  Doctrines  and  Economy  of 
Methodism.    By  Rev.  John  Bakewell.    18mo 0  50 

Analysis  of  Watson's  Institutes, 

By  Rev.  John  M'Clintook,  D.D.     18mo 0  55 

Angels,  Nature  and  Ministry  of, 

By  Rev.  James  Rawson.    18mo 0  35 

Apology  for  the  Bible. 

A  Powerful  Antidote  to  Infidelity.    By  Bishop  Wat- 
son.   18mo °  5° 

Apostolical  Succession, 

An  Essay  on.    By  Thomas  Powell.    12mo 1  10 

Appeal  to  Matter  of  Fact  and  Common  Sense. 

By  Rev.  John  Fletcher.    18mo 0  65 

Baptism, 

Its  Subjects,  Mode,  Obligation,  Import,  and  Relative 
Order.    By  Rev.  F.  G.  Hibbard.    12mo 1  75 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

Baptism,, 

Obligation,  Subjects,  and  Mode.  An  Appeal  to  the 
Candid  of  all  Denominations,  in  which  the  Obliga- 
tions, Subjects,  and  Mode  of  Baptism  are  Discussed. 
By  Rev.  Henry  Slicer.    18mo $0  55 

Baptism, 

Obligation,  Subjects,  and  Mode.  In  two  Parts. 
Part  I.  Infant  Baptism;  Part  II.  The  Mode.  By 
H.  M.  Shaffer.    18mo ^ 0  55 

Beatitudes, 

Lectures  on  the.    By  C.  C.  Crum.    12mo 1  00 

Benson's  Commentary. 

Five  volumes.,  sheep.     Lnperial  8vo 25  00 

Half  calf 28  00 

Plain  calf 28  00 

Bible  Hand-Book, 

Theologically  Arranged.  By  F.  C,  Holliday,  D.D. 
l2mo 1  50 

Bible,  Index  and  Dictionary  of, 

A  Complete  Index  and  Concise  Dictionary  of  the 
Holy  Bible.    By  Rev.  John  Barr.     l2mo 1  00 

Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion, 

Natural  and  Revealed.    12rao 150 

Calvinism  as  It  Is. 

By  Randolph  S.  Foster,  D.D.    l2mo 1  25 

Calvinistic  Controversy. 

Embracing  a  Sermon  on  Predestination  and  Election. 

By  "Wilbur  Fisk,  D.D.     12mo 1  00 

Campbellism  Exposed, 

By  Wm.  Phillips.    18mo 0  70 

Christ  and  Christianity. 

A  Vindication  of  the  Divine  Authority  of  the  Chris- 
tian Religion,  Grounded  on  the  Historical  Verity  of  the 
Life  of  Christ.    By  Wm.  L.  Alexander,  D.D.    12mo.    100 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

Christ  Crucified. 

(Divinity  of  Christ.)    By  George  W.  Clarke.    18rao  $0  60 

Christ  of  the  Gospels,  the 

By  Tulloch.    16mo .-.  1  25 

Christian  Pastorate, 

Its  Character,  Kesponsibilities,  and  Duties.  •  By  Rev. 
Daniel  P.  Kidder.     12ino 1  75 

Christian  Perfection, 

By  Rev.  J.  Fletcher.    24mo 0  40 

Christian  Perfection, 

An  Account  of.    By  Bev.  J.  Wesley.     24mo 0  15 

Christian  Perfection, 

Scripture  Doctrine  of.     By  Geo.  Peck,  D.D.    12mo. .     1  75 
Abridged.    l8mo '. 0  40 

Christian  Purity; 

Or,  The  Heritage  of  Faith.    Bevised.    By  Randolph 

S.  Foster,  D.D.,  LL.D.     l2mo 175 

Christian's  Manual, 

A  Treatise  on  Christian  Perfection.    By  Rev*  Timothy 
Merritt.     24mo 0  40 

Christian  Theology, 

By  A.  Clarke,  LL.D.    12rao ........    125 

Church  Polity, 

By  Bishop  Morris.     18mo 0  40 

Church  Polity, 

Essay  on.    By  Rev.  Abel  Stevens,  LL.D.    12rao. ...    1  00 

Clarke's  Commentary. 

Six  vols.,  sheep.     Imp.  8vo 30  00 

Half  calf. 34  00 

Plain  calf 34  00 

Turkey  morocco,  full  gilt 46  00 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

Composition  of  a  Sermon, 

Essay  on.    By  Rev.  John  Claude.    18mo $0  55 

Colenso  Reviewed, 

Fallacies  of.    By  Rev.  Chables  H.  Fowleb.    16mo  . .    0  75 

Commentary  on  the  Zord's  Prayer 

By  Rev.  W.  Denton,  M.  A.    Large  16mo 1  00 

Defense  of  Jesus, 

From  the  French  of  Menard  St.  Martin.  By  Paul 
Cobden.    l6mo 0  75 

Defense  of  our  Fathers, 

By  Bishop  Emobt.    8vo 100 

Discipline  of  the  M.  E.  Church, 

Changes  in,  made  by  the  General  Conference  of 
1868.    Pamphlet.    l2mo 0  20 

Discipline  of  the  M.  E.  Church, 

Guide  in  the  Administration  of  the.  By  Bishop 
Bakeb.  New  Edition.  Edited  by  Rev.  William  L. 
Habbis.    16mo 1  25 

Discipline  of  the  M.  E.  Churchy 

History  of  the.     By  Rev.  Robebt  Emobt.     Revised 

and  brought  down  to  1864.    12mo 1  50 

Doctrines  and  Discipline  of  the  M.  E.  Church. 

New  edition.    1872.     24mo 0  50 

Morocco,  tuck,  gilt  edges 1  00 

12mo.    Roan  flexible.    Red  edge 125 

Morocco  flexible.     Gilt  edge .1  75 

Emory,  Bishop, 

Life  and  "Works  of.    8vo 8  00 

Episcopal  Controversy  and  Defense, 

By  Bishop  Emobt.    In  1  vol.    8vo ISO 

Episcopal  Controversy  Reviewed, 

By  Bishop  Emobt.    In  one  volume.    8vo 0  90 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

Evidences  of  Religion  j 

The  Scientific.    By  William  C.  Laerabee.     12mo..  $1  25 

Evangelist^  the  True, 

By  J.  Porter,  D.D.    16mo.... 0  60 

Fair  bairn  on  Prophecy. 

Prophecy  in  respect  to  its  Nature,  Function,  and  In- 
terpretation.   8vo 3  00 

Fletcher,  Rev.  J.,  Works  of. 

Four  volumes,  8vo 12  00 

Plain  calf. 14  00 

Half  calf. 14  00 

Fletcher's  Checks  to  Antinomianism. 

Two  volumes.    8vo 6  00 

Hamline's  Works,  Bishop. 

Vol.  1.  Sermons 2  00 

Vol.  2.  Miscellaneous 2  00 

Harmony  and  Exposition  of  the  Gospels, 

By  James  Strong,  S.T.D.    Beautifully  Illustrated  by 

Maps  and  Engravings.     8vo 5  00 

Half  calf  or  half  morocco 6  00 

Harmony  of  the  Divine  Dispensations, 

By  G.  Smith,  F.S.A.    8vo 2  00 

Half  calf  or  half  morocco 4  00 

Heaven,  Scripture  Views  of, 

By  Bev.  J.  Edmondson,  A.M.    18mo 0  55 

Hibbard  on  the  Psalms. 

The  Psalms  Chronologically  Arranged,  with  Historical 
Introductions,   and  a   General    Introduction   to  the 

whole  Book.    By  Rev.  F.  G.  Hibbard.     8vo 3  50 

Half  morocco 4  50 

Historical  Confirmation  of  Scripture, 

By  Wm.  Blatoh.    18mo 0  35 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  FAMILY— DOCTRINAL. 

History  of  the  M.  E.  Church. 

Revised  Edition.    By  Nathan  Bangs,  D.D.    4  vols., 
12mo $6  00 

Homiletics,  a  Treatise  on, 

By  Daniel  P.  Kidder,  D.D.    12mo 1  75 

Homilist,  the, 

Sermons  for  Preachers  and  Laymen.    By  Rev.  Erwin 
House.    12mo 1  75 

Home's  Introduction  to  the  Bible. 

Abridged  edition.    12mo 1  50 

Immortality  of  the  Soul, 

And  the  Pinal  Condition  of  the  "Wicked  Carefully  Con- 
sidered.   By  R.  W.  Landis.    12mo 1  75 

Infant  Church-Membership. 

By  S.  Gregg.     16mo 1  00 

Jesus  Christ,  His  Times,  Life,  and  Work, 

By  Rev.  E.  De  Pressense,  D.D.    Abridged  from  the 
large  work.    12mo 1  50 

Justification, 

Scriptural   Doctrine    of.    By   Rev.    Edward   Hare. 
18mo 0  60 

Living  Words; 

Or,  Unwritten   Sermons  of  the  late  John  M'Cltn- 
tock,    D.D.,    LL.D.      Reported    Phonographically. 

With  a  Preface  by  Bishop  Janes 1  75 

Morocco  antique 4  00 

Logic,  Elements  of, 

By  C.  K.  True,  D.D.    16mo 0  80 

Meditations  on  the  Essence  of  Christianity, 

By  M.  Guizot.     12mo 175 

Methodist  Episcopal  Pulpit. 

A    Collection    of    Original    Sermons.    By   D.    W. 
Clark,  D.D.    12mo , 175 


> 


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